


I Due Fiumi

by Crysania



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Minor Finn/Rose Tico, Minor Poe Dameron/Amilyn Holdo, Pianist kylo ren, Playboy Kylo Ren is not what he seems, Slow Burn, Snoke sucks as always, Violinist Rey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 59,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: Kylo Ren is the rock star pianist of the classical music world, known for both his aggressive playing style and the many models he takes home after his performances. It's just too bad it's all a lie created by Snoke. Snoke, who has just told him that he'sfailinghim and needs something more on stage. Preferably something young, hot, and vapid.Rey Kenobi is an up and coming young violinist, graduate of the famed Ahch-to Conservatory of Music and one of Luke's young prodigies. With little on her plate after graduation, except orchestral auditions, Luke Skywalker suggests she auditions to be Kylo Ren's new partner.Sparks fly immediately upon first meeting and despite Snoke's protests, he refuses to audition another person after meeting Rey. As they begin rehearsals for their first performance, those sparks light a fire that even Snoke can't manage to put out.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 306
Kudos: 593





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from a track of one of my favorite albums by Ludovico Einaudi. It means "The Two Rivers."
> 
> This whole fic was inspired by an interview Adam Driver did where he talked about listening to a Rachmaninoff Concerto over and over when he was younger. I couldn't get the image of Kylo Ren as a pianist out of my head after that.

He hates her.

No, that’s not quite right. _Hate_ implies that he actually cares enough to have some sort of strong emotion. He’s _indifferent_ to her. He barely remembers her name. It’s one word, Bizarre or Bazine or something along that line. Just the latest model in a group of models that Snoke has forced on him for these functions.

Kylo Ren should be eating it up. He should be happy when her hand strokes down the muscles of his chest, exclaims over the strength of his pianist’s hands. He should be taking her back to a hotel room after she shows her appreciation for him by reaching down to not-so-accidently brush against his still-soft cock. But he doesn’t want to.

There’s no attraction there.

Not on his side at least. He can see her practically salivating, licking her lips as she whispers something lewd in his ear.

And all Ben Solo wants to do is escape.

How has his life come to this? Born into a musical family, his mother one of the former stars of the Metropolitan Opera, his uncle a retired concert pianist. Even his father was the lead guitarist of a still-popular rock band. He had everything going for him…money, his family’s fame. He certainly had the talent. As a 14-year-old kid he’d been touted as the _next great thing_.

And he was. No, he _is_. Snoke has made sure of it. He’s given him a career, a new life, fame like he had never imagined.

_The new Liszt_ , they had all touted in the papers after his first performance as Kylo Ren. He graces the stage in all black, carefully removing cloak and gloves before sitting at the piano. His hands are long-fingered and large, his body powerful. He cuts a dramatic figure with his thick black hair that’s just a touch too long to be considered “professional.”

He picks powerful pieces.

Well, Snoke does. Rachmaninoff, Liszt, modern composers no one has ever heard of. He’s had a work or two commissioned for him in his time. They’re works others can’t play. They don’t have the reach of his large hands or his flair for the dramatic.

And he loves performing, lives for it.

It’s these fucking after-parties that he hates. He’s dragged to them each and every Goddamn time. Snoke won’t have it any other way. _You have to put on a show for the sponsors, boy. You can’t just hide out. Are you Kylo Ren or still that sniveling Ben Solo I first took on?_

He doesn’t even know who he really is anymore.

“My hotel room or yours?” Bazine is whispering in his ear. Fuck, he doesn’t even know her last name. Does she have a last name? Does it even matter?

“I need to get some air,” he murmurs.

She smiles at those words, the cat that ate the canary and all that. But that’s not what he means. It isn’t some cue for her to meet him outside so he can take her to his hotel room and fuck her senseless. No, he quite literally needs _air_. He needs to get away from the crush of people in the room, from her and her wandering hands. The whole thing disgusts him, the thought of taking this woman to bed simply for what? Because she’s aesthetically pleasing? Because others expect it of him?

Snoke does, certainly.

Snoke will never know the truth. No one will.

And so he smiles tightly. “Thank you, my dear,” he says, leaning down to her. His lips graze the side of her face, just slightly, and he cringes at the contact. She, of course, eats it up. “I’m just stepping out for a moment,” he adds as he steps away from her.

He hears her words of protest as he makes his hasty retreat. He can see Snoke across the room, talking to some of his more important sponsors. And even from that distance, he can feel his disappointment, his anger. _I got her for_ you _, boy. Do you not like my presents?_

No.

No he most certainly does not.

With a shudder, he pushes open the door and steps out onto the balcony, breathing in the cool night air.

* * *

“That was _amazing_ ,” Rey says, glancing over to where Finn stands near her. She’s known him forever. Or at least, it feels like forever.

_Brother from a different mother_ , as Finn always tells her. She’d met him when she was at her favorite foster home. Old Ben Kenobi. He’d been the one to introduce her to the violin, presenting it to her when she showed an interest in the various instruments around his house.

_I used to play_ , was all he’d tell her. And she could see the way his hands were twisted with age, could see the wistfulness in his faded blue eyes. When she took the violin to her chin, when he showed her how to place her hands and hold the bow, it had just felt right.

And watching old Ben tear up when she first drew the bow across the strings, hearing his whispered _I never thought I’d hear her again_ , meant the world to her. She’d vowed then and there to do that instrument justice.

She has, she thinks. Old Ben would be proud of her. He’d passed on some years ago, and she’d been tossed to another terrible foster home. But she’d kept that violin, studied in school and through tutorials she’d dug up on YouTube in the middle of the night. She’d spent many a chilly evening sitting outside, far from the house where the horrible Unkar Plutt and his equally odious wife could hear her, practicing.

And she’d gotten into the famed Ahch-to Conservatory with a full scholarship. She’d moved all her stuff out the day she left for college and she hasn’t gone back. She _won’t_ go back. She’s her own person. It will be a cold day in hell before she ever sees the Plutts again.

“You just think it’s amazing because you have the hots for the pianist,” Finn says, and Rey feels her cheeks heat a bit.

It’s not that he isn’t _right_. He is in some ways. Kylo Ren is beautiful and watching him play with such intensity, the way he moves his body, the raven locks that sway as he hits a particularly powerful chord, was as exciting as the music he played.

Rey usually prefers something a bit softer, a bit less dramatic. The sheer technical brilliance of a Bach Sonata, the clarity of Beethoven’s earlier works, the beauty and classical bent to the works of Johannes Brahms. But she can’t deny that there’s _something_ about watching Kylo Ren play such powerful works that makes her feel a little light-headed.

“That’s not true,” Rey mutters. “He’s an amazing performer.”

“I’ll give you that much,” Rose says. She’s standing next to Finn, hand firmly clasped in his. They’ve been together since their sophomore year and the two are hoping to find some place to land together. They’re a wonderful pair, both professionally and personally. She dearly loves Rose, dear, sweet, self-deprecating Rose. _One doesn’t play the viola and not learn to poke fun at themselves_. She hopes for the best for them both.

“But God,” Finn says. “Look at him.”

They all are. They can’t help it. She’s pretty sure everyone in the room is drawn to Kylo Ren. He’s still all in black and he towers above everyone else at the party. He’s magnetic, even slouching against the wall with that model girlfriend of his clinging to him and hanging on his every word.

He looks so self-satisfied as he leans down to say something to her.

“Look at him?” Rey asks. “Look at _her_.” She watches as the woman with him trails her hand down his chest and she hears Finn choke when she actually has the audacity to grab his crotch.

“Wow.”

“Right?”

Kylo Ren leans down close to her and whispers something in her ear, and then he’s striding away. She can just imagine how that conversation went. _Meet me in my hotel room? Of course_. And another night of passion for the infamous Kylo Ren. She knows, from reading the tabloids that she very much pretends to never ever read, that Kylo Ren goes through these model girlfriends of his like candy. A different one every week, every concert.

KYLO REN SEEN WITH ACTRESS JESSIKA PAVA

KYLO REN HEARTBROKEN OVER BREAKUP WITH KAYDEL?

Read the latest on page 27. She does. She admits it. He’s taken the classical music world by storm these past few years and as someone with dreams of being a performer, she’s probably watched his career a little closer than most.

“So gross,” Rey murmurs. “I can’t imagine how many women he’s dipped his dick into.”

Finn laughs at that and Rose just makes a face.

“Sorry,” Rey murmurs. “I know, I know. ‘You’re _so_ crass, Rey’.” The latter is said in imitation of Finn. She has his manner of speaking down pretty well at this time.

“You are,” he says and elbows her lightly in the ribs.

Rey just shakes her head, watching as Bazine turns and heads in the same direction Kylo Ren did a moment before. She looks strangely annoyed, not what one would expect from someone about to fuck the famous pianist. “I need some air after watching that display,” Rey finally says.

Finn nods sympathetically, and Rose touches her arm lightly. “We’ll meet you back at the bar?” Rose asks.

Rey nods and heads toward the nearest exit.

She hates these things. She really does. It’s not that she doesn’t love her friends or seeing all the glitzy rich people milling about, it’s just that she feels so out of place. She grew up with nothing, still has so little. She only got into Ahch-to Conservatory by the grace of a scholarship and because Luke Skywalker, the head of the academy, seemed to have taken an interest in her from the beginning. _Kenobi? I knew old Ben some years before_. He’d left it at that, and she’d never felt comfortable asking about it.

When she steps out on the balcony, she’s blessedly alone. The sounds of the crowd behind her, the lilt of the string quartet providing some light entertainment, all fades away. She steps to the railing. This is her home now, this academy.

She knows her time there is almost up. Graduation is less than a week away and then after that? She’s not even sure. She’s been scouring her sources for orchestral gigs. She has dreams of being a soloist, maybe part of a small chamber ensemble. But for now she’ll take last chair in an orchestra if it means she gets to continue performing.

“You too, huh?” comes a deep voice from somewhere in the shadows.

Rey jumps, probably way more dramatically than she would have hoped. She’s sure she’ll still be embarrassed by that moment years from now. It’s just the sort of thing that she thinks about in the middle of the night.

“Me too, what?” she says. He steps into the light and it takes a moment for her to realize it’s Kylo Ren. Kylo fucking Ren. “Aren’t you supposed to be off fucking your model girlfriend or something?” The words fly out, and she clamps her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. _Did you really just say that, Rey? Really?_ Well, at least she won’t have to worry about reliving that little nervous jump she made. This is _so_ much worse.

He grimaces at that.

“Shit, sorry. Wow. I keep putting my foot in it, don’t I?”

He offers up a shrug. “I guess.” He shrugs again. “It doesn’t matter though. She’s no one.”

“I thought she was some famous model.” Rey is sure she’d seen her before. And they all know that Kylo Ren is never seen without some eye candy on his arm. His very _strong_ arm, she realizes, as she studies him. He’s so much bigger and more powerful in person. Rey is not tiny. She’s above average in height and in her heels is taller than Finn’s 5’9”. But standing next to Kylo Ren, she feels very small indeed.

“Well, she is that I suppose. I don’t know. I don’t really…you know…follow that sort of thing.” He waves one of those large, graceful hands in the air.

“Fashion, you mean?”

“Something like that.”

She falls silent for a moment, turning to look out over the grounds. “I’ve always loved it here,” she says.

He doesn’t respond, and when she looks over at him, he’s watching her. His eyes are dark, unreadable in the dim light that filters out to their location. But there’s something playing about his mouth, frown lines that weren’t there before, maybe a furrow between the dark brows. Up close, his face is strangely asymmetrical, the lips fuller than she noticed from a distance, the nose just a bit more crooked, and his pale skin dotted with several moles.

She catalogs those imperfections like she does the form of a piece of music, tucking them away to analyze later. She can’t even really understand it, but she finds she _likes_ the imperfections. Up close, Kylo Ren seems somehow _softer_ and yet still larger than life. He carries himself with a sort of military precision, back ramrod straight, hands resting with a tight grip on the balcony when they’re not used to punctuate something he says.

“You’re a student here.”

He doesn’t ask it as a question, but she feels the need to answer anyway. “I am. Well, I am for now.”

One of his eyebrows rises. “You’re quitting?”

“Hardly,” she says with a small huff of laughter. “I graduate next week.”

“Congrats,” he murmurs, and that one single word sends a small shiver down her spine.

“Thanks.”

Silence again, but she finds it strangely companionable. Even if there’s a small part of her that’s screaming inside and can’t wait to get back to tell Finn and Rose she’d _talked_ to him. Kylo Ren. A _celebrity_. Or at least, a celebrity in their little corner of the world. He’s not Joshua Bell or YoYo Ma famous. But she suspects given a bit of time, he’ll be there. Everyone loves a pianist.

“So what’s next for you?” Every word sounds a bit like it’s being drawn out of him by force, as if he feels they _need_ to converse if they’re standing so close together.

She shrugs. “Orchestra auditions I guess.”

“You guess? Not your thing?”

She glances over at him and finds that he’s watching her. Almost too intently really. She can feel a slight blush on her cheeks. “To be honest? Not really.”

“Soloist, then.”

Another shrug. “That’s what I hoped. I guess what I still hope. Being part of an orchestra is lovely…”

“But you want the chance to shine,” he finishes for her. “You like being the center of attention.”

“God, that sounds so conceited when you put it that way.” She shakes her head. “But I guess so. I mean, I like the solo literature better. And I like stretching the instrument to its greatest heights, seeing everything I can pull out of it…”

“Violin?”

She nods. “I guess that’s obvious. Do viola players dream of being soloists?”

“Cellists do,” he responds with.

“True.”

“You don’t look like a cellist,” he says and when she looks over at him, head cocked to the side a little, he looks away. She’s almost sure she can see the color high up on his cheeks.

“What does a cellist look like?”

“Nevermind.”

“No, I want to know.” Now she’s laughing and he has the good graces to look at least a _little_ embarrassed.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m not even sure why I said that. Christ, I don’t even know what I’m doing here.” He runs his hands through his hair and Rey suddenly feels very much like she wishes _she_ were the one doing that.

“Alright, I’ll let you off the hook. _This_ time.”

He stares at her for a moment. “Who _are_ you?”

“No one.”

“You’re not no one.” There’s a strange earnestness, almost vulnerability to the words, and Rey can’t help the soft gasp that escapes her.

“I’m…”

“There you are!” comes Finn’s voice from the entrance to the balcony.

Rey jumps back and away from Kylo Ren and turns around. Finn is standing silhouetted in the doorway, Rose at his side. “Finn!” Her voice is oddly strained, and she cringes at the sound.

“We’ve been looking for you.”

“I told you I needed some air,” she points out. She turns back toward Kylo, only to find that he’s somehow managed to meld back into the shadows at the corner of the balcony. She can see him there, black on black, head turned away so all she can see is the waves of his dark hair.

“Right, well, Rose and I were going to leave.” She can see Finn trying to see past her to the person in the corner. She steps in his way but not before she watches his eyes widen. “That’s…” he starts to say.

“Come on Finn, let’s go.” She turns back toward Kylo Ren, but he’s still looking out over the campus, head turned away from her. She supposes this is the last time she’ll get a chance to talk to him. It’s not every day he performs at their university, not every day she gets to go to the after party for one of these events. Usually she’s gone with the rest of the audience.

But this one was special, with graduating seniors at the top of their class invited to come to the party. Just a little bit of the glamorous lifestyle so many of them crave.

“Alright,” Finn says. As they head back into the crush of bodies in the main room, Rey turns around one last time. Kylo Ren stands there, watching, and she wishes she had some sort of chance to tell him who she was. With a sigh, she follows Finn further into the room, losing sight of the dark pianist.

* * *

Fuck.

He wishes he’d found out her name.

Wishes he could have asked _her_ to come home with him. Not that he’d have any idea what to _do_ with her, really. Show her your Star Wars action figures? Maybe the fucking Lego Millennium Falcon he’d built. Or perhaps she’d be interested in his first edition copies of Tolkein’s _The Lord of the Rings._

Fuck.

He can just imagine how _that_ one would go down.

Kylo Ren is a lie.

The biggest one he’s ever told, without ever telling it. Snoke has told it, time and time again. Sold the public a bill of goods that doesn’t exist. He has the talent, certainly, has the charisma when sitting at the piano. But the truth is that Ben Solo is a big fucking mess of a human being, a dumpster fire of fandom obsessions with the inability to so much as woo a woman who he might _actually_ find a connection with.

He heads back into the room. He has to make one last appearance, find Bazine and make a show of leaving with her. He’ll ditch her at her hotel room, leave her disappointed and wanting. There’s no love for the vapid models Snoke insists he be seen with. No love, no connection. He feels nothing for them and while half of them want him to take them to bed, he can’t even stomach the thought.

He’s always thankful for the ones who tell him it’s a publicity thing for them too, that they’re just there to be seen and _don’t you try anything fancy with me_. That’s a fucking relief, but he doesn’t have that here. Bazine _expects_ things.

And as he leaves the room with her, he can see Snoke watching him with that knowing look playing about his face. _Make a good show of it, boy. The world loves an unrepentant playboy._

So he plays his role, disappearing with Bazine while her hands touch his shoulders, grab his ass, and generally make him feel like the piece of meat Snoke wants him to be seen as.

And all he can think, as he leaves Bazine angry at her hotel room, is that he wishes he were back talking to the woman on the balcony.


	2. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kylo Ren gets an unpleasant surprise from his manager and Rey has to make a life-changing decision.

He’s been called into Snoke’s office. He knows that doesn’t mean good things. He’s sure Bazine complained that he abandoned her, dumped her off at her hotel room without so much as a by your leave.

God, he wants out.

_There’s no way out_.

“Mr. Snoke will see you now,” comes the voice of the receptionist. Hux, his name is. Ginger bastard. He doesn’t have a talented bone in his body, but he’s sold his pasty soul to work for someone Ben thinks more and more might be the devil himself.

Antoine Snoke. He still has no idea how he got mixed up with him really. He’d just been this kid, barely out of graduate school, with fire in his veins and the need to show the world that Ben Solo could be famous by his own merits. It terrified him, really, thinking the only reason anyone paid attention to him was because he was Leia Organa’s kid, because his uncle had been a famous concert pianist until he’d lost an arm in an accident, because his father had been in the tabloids again for a drinking binge.

He’d wanted to _be_ someone.

And so there was Snoke, hiding in the wings after one particularly grueling performance, his scarred face speaking to years of living on the edge, offering Ben a lifeline. _Become Kylo Ren and I will give you everything_.

He had. He had become as much Kylo Ren as he could. A bit rough around the edges, walking the knifepoint between rock star and concert pianist. Snoke had stoked the fire in his blood, letting it roar into an anger that he took out on the piano at every concert. He’d built an image, the bad boy of classical music, one step away from falling off the cliff of Snoke’s making.

“Kylo Ren,” Snoke says when he steps into his office. “Please do shut the door.”

That’s not a good sign. Snoke is unpleasant on his best of days. When he smiles at him like that, when his voice goes almost soft, Ben knows he’s in for it.

“If this is about Bazine…”

Snoke waves one thin hand. “She doesn’t matter. She _was_ rather put out though,” Snoke muses. “I tire of having to placate these women for you. Eventually they’re going to talk.”

Ben knows what he’s referring to. Each one expects him to take them to bed. He did try, once, with the first one. It was what Snoke had expected of him. In some ways, she had felt like a hired prostitute. She’d been some up and coming young actress and Snoke though a torrid affair between the two of them would look good for them _both_.

In the end, he’d ended up in the bathroom, cock still soft, and he’d _cried_. How fucking embarrassing. He simply felt nothing for her, no attraction at all. She’d been a lovely girl and he’s thankful that she had been understanding. She’d assumed he was gay, of course she had. When the truth was so much harder to stomach: he’d felt no attraction at all. Not to women, not to men. Some days he wasn’t even sure he _could_ feel it. Not that he didn’t take his cock in hand some days, not that he didn’t get urges. He just hadn’t found that emotional connection that might lead to his actually _wanting_ to do such things with someone.

So he avoided it, walking models and actresses and singers back to their hotel rooms, calling them cabs, sending them home alone. He knows they’ll talk eventually, But so far Snoke has managed to coddle them all, probably paying them huge sums of money out of Ben’s account to not tell the story about how Ben hadn’t fucked her. Some had even gone to the tabloids to sing his praises in bed.

Fuck it all.

Ben Solo wasn’t good in bed. Ben Solo had no fucking clue what to _do_ in bed.

“You paid her off.”

“Again,” Snoke hisses. “At this rate, you’ll have nothing left.”

“Then stop making me take them to these parties!” Ben explodes with.

Snoke says nothing for a moment, just steeples his fingers together and stares at him with narrowed eyes. “I’ve created you, Kylo Ren. Don’t make me tear you down. It won’t be pretty.”

Ben shudders. He’s starting to hate that fucking name.

_There’s no way out._

Snoke stands then and walks on twisted legs over to Ben. Standing above him, Snoke seems powerful, everything a young pianist should want in a manager. He leans down and put a finger under Ben’s chin, tilting his head up toward him. “When I found you, you were nothing but a sniveling brat.”

“I…”

Snoke cuts him off with a dark look. “Playing all that light fare you seemed to like, just a product of your mother, of your uncle. One of _them_.” He sneers at the last. “Playing the likes of Mozart, Chopin, the works that are _easy_ for the audience. Easy for you. You could go so much further.”

“And I have.”

“You _did_ ,” Snoke says and there’s a darkness to the words that leaves Ben feeling a little breathless, his heart constricting. Snoke says nothing more, pacing back to his desk and sitting down.

Ben waits a beat. He knows he’s doing this for some sort of dramatic effect. But finally he’s compelled to ask the question Snoke is waiting for. “What do you mean?”

“I thought you’d never ask, boy. Do you know, back when I first took you on, I imagined you’d be the next Vader.” Ben cringes at his grandfather’s stage name. He was well known within classical music circle, his concerts getting wilder and crazier, until he’d completely burned out. Alcohol, drugs, he’d gone on a bender one night, attempted to play a concert for an elite audience. It had been a complete disaster. He’d gone on stage raving about lava on the stage, trying to play as if that would prevent it from creeping up. He’d gone screaming off stage in the middle of the concert, and disappeared.

There were rumors he’d killed a man that night.

There were rumors he’d killed the children at an area music school. They’re been found dead the next morning. _All_ of them.

There had been a time when Ben had been obsessed with his grandfather’s recordings, with his legacy, with _finding_ him. As if that could set it all to rights.

When Snoke had come to him, talking about how his talent was so like his grandfather’s, he’d preened under the attention. It hadn’t taken much to push him over the edge to follow Snoke. He’d abandoned Luke, his academy, shunned his mother and refused to talk to his rocker father.

“But you’re no Vader,” Snoke goes on with, as if he’s completely oblivious to Ben’s inner turmoil. “You’re just a child hiding behind a new name. And not even one of your own invention. If I hadn’t stepped in you’d still be Ben Solo, that pathetic kid who cried when he played.”

Ben wants to defend himself, but there’s truth to his words. He hates him, hates _it_. Snoke, Hux, the models, all of it. The only thing he loves is being at the piano. He can’t deny that he’s become a more powerful player under Snoke’s guidance. Pushed to his limits, pulling things from the piano he never imagined.

But he’s lost himself. Over and over again. And he’s not even sure who he is anymore.

“Do you know why I called you in here today?” Snoke asks.

“The model…”

Snoke laughs, a harsh wheezing sound that Ben knows does not mean good things. “Hardly.” He tosses a paper down in front of Ben. “Go ahead. Read it.”

KYLO REN LOSING TOUCH?

The article he reads is not a flattering one. It talks of his being mechanical, of playing the same pieces every time. The author of it wonders when he lost his spark. _He looks like a man going to the gallows as he steps out on stage, dark circles beneath haunted eyes_. It’s a whole lot of rubbish, really. One woman’s tired opinion.

_But she’s not wrong, is she Ben? She’s hitting too close to the truth_.

He _is_ tired. He longs for a change, for a break, but no. Snoke is sitting across from him, leaning forward, predatory grin in face. He has plans. Ben is sure of it. Plans he won’t like.

“Not such a flattering article, now is it?”

Ben just shakes his head.

“And every bit of it is _true_ ,” Snoke roars at him, snatching the paper out from under him and throwing it across the room. Some of it lands in the trash bin, the rest hits the floor in a heap.

“It was a bad night,” Ben starts to say.

“ _Every_ night is a bad night these days. This isn’t the first article written about your failures. It’s just the first one that’s hit the mainstream.”

Ben shivers slightly. This is it, the end of the career he wanted.

“So what are we going to do about this?” Snoke asks, arms crossing over his chest.

“I’ll focus more,” Ben says quickly, cringing at the obsequious tone to his voice. “Harder pieces. More virtuosity.” _Push yourself to your limits, boy. Only then will they know what you’re capable of_.

“Not this time,” Snoke answers with. “That won’t be enough. You need _pizzazz,_ my boy. You need something you’re not currently giving them.”

At Ben’s blank look, Snoke laughs again. “You need someone else on stage with you.” The words drop heavily into the silence of the room.

Someone else.

“I’m a soloist,” Ben responds with.

Someone _else_?

No. He’s a solo pianist. It’s part of his act, the dramatic one-man show that he puts on every night. It won’t work with someone else. It _can’t_ work. Snoke has created Kylo Ren. He’s created the persona, the musical focus of his performances. He’s created it as a _one_ person show.

“Not anymore,” Snoke says. “We start auditions on Friday for your new partner.” He sits back in his chair, eyes focused on Ben. “I’m thinking someone young, someone pretty. Someone we can pair you off with in the press, talk about your tempestuous relationship behind the scenes. Yes. I know _exactly_ what we’re looking for.”

“Someone with fire,” Ben says. Someone who can play off of him.

_Someone to take Snoke’s focus away from you_.

He doesn’t like it. He’s not sure he ever will. Ben Solo doesn’t play well with others. That’s what his parents were always wont to tell others. It’s why he ended up as a pianist. He had dabbled in other instruments. Violin, cello, even trying the trumpet for a few short months when he was a teenager. But it was the piano that ultimately became _his_ instrument. He was able to lock himself away in a room and live within its sound, feel the keys beneath his fingers, the vibration of the strings as he hit each note.

The piano was often his only companion.

He usually preferred it that way.

Snoke is expecting something out of him and really, what choice does he have? He stands and nods. “Friday, then.”

“Good!” Snoke crows. “I know you’d agree.”

Ben leaves then. He’s not sure if he agreed or simply accepted that it is what it is and there’s no getting around it. He does a lot of that these days. Apathy is more a state of being for him than anything else.

* * *

Rey steps into Dr. Skywalker’s office. She’s not called in very often, which is probably a good thing. Finn has been called in more often than she is. He can be a bit of a troublemaker at times. He’s a fantastic cellist, but definitely a bit of a rebel.

“You wanted to see me?” she asks from just inside the door.

“Yes, yes. Rey. Come in.” He’s doing something on his computer that he’s not taking his eyes off of, so just gestures to the chairs in front of his desk.

She sits, perched awkwardly on the end of one chair, foot beating a tattoo against the floor. He glances at her then and offers a small smile. “Nothing to be worried about.” He slides out and away from the ancient computer he still favors. In a day and age where people are mostly using sleek laptops, it’s amusing to see Skywalker with his old CRT monitor and even older computer. She wonders what he’s running on it. Maybe Windows 98. The thought makes her smile.

“I’m not,” she says. It’s a complete lie, and Skywalker smiles. She’s pretty sure he knows.

“Good,” he says anyway. “Don’t fret. I mean it. You’re not in trouble.”

“Well, that’s good,” Rey says, though she still has no clue what is going on here.

He types a few more things into the computer and then sighs, finally sliding out to level his gaze on her. “Rey, tell me something. What are your plans after you graduate next week?”

She shrugs. “Auditions, I guess.”

“Orchestral?”

There’s that question again. She remembers Kylo Ren asking the same the night before. It’s strange, really, looking back on that conversation. She never even gave him her name, and she wishes she had. There something about him, fascinating and quiet, not quite what he appears as on stage. There was power there, certainly, but it was tightly reined in out there on the balcony.

“Why does everyone ask that?”

“Everyone?” Luke asks, eyebrows raised.

She makes an annoyed noise in the back of her throat, “Yes, orchestral seems to be in my best interest,” she says. “It’s not what I want…”

“Good,” he interrupts her with. “Because I have something better for you that I think would be perfect.” He tosses a flyer down in front of her.

And Rey feels herself go cold.

It’s an audition notice. For Kylo Ren.

“I don’t understand,” she murmurs. “He’s a soloist.”

Luke shrugs. “It seems he’s not anymore.”

She looks back down at the notice. He’s looking for someone young and dynamic and it’s not like she can’t read between the lines. He wants an attractive young woman on stage with him. It doesn’t say as much, but the constant use of the word “she” in the notice, the bit about playing _sexy_ music, makes it pretty clear. And it’s a strange thing, really. He seemed almost a gentleman the night before, speaking to her on an equal level, despite his being a world-renowned pianist and her just graduating from school.

So why this strange, almost misogynistic bent to the ad?

“And you think _I_ would be right for this?” she blurts out. She’s not sexy. She’s young, certainly, just barely past 22, but sexy is not a word anyone would use to describe Regan Kenobi. “You realize he’s looking for eye candy, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you think I’m eye candy?”

Luke says nothing for a moment, his hands coming together as he shrugs. “I think _Snoke_ is looking for eye candy.”

“Snoke?”

“Antoine Snoke. He’s Kylo Ren’s manager. I’m sure you saw him hanging around last night. Elderly gentleman, bald, scarred head?”

She had. He’d been holding court with some of the wealthier investors. He’d seemed almost frail, leaning heavily on a cane as he addressed them. But there had been something else there. Some sense of wealth and power, that had left her feeling a little off. “Yes. I saw him,” she admits.

“Snoke is…I’m not sure how to say it exactly. He’s difficult and demanding. He is not kind. This notice smacks of his influence.”

She reads the notice. And then re-reads it again. Auditions start on Friday and go until the position is filled. She could put something together. It’s not like she doesn’t have pieces that she’s been practicing for any future auditions she might go to. She can put together the material in a few day’s notice.

A solo piece. Well, she has the Bach sonatas, certainly. They’re some of her favorite works, with just enough virtuosity to be impressive in an audition situation.

A work for her instrument and piano. He’s provided a list of works for a few instruments, and it’s pretty clear he, or Snoke as the case may be, has specific ideas about _what_ instruments are appropriate. Another pianist, violin, cello. He doesn’t specifically say which instrument he’s looking for, or that others will not be entertained. But it’s clear the picture they’re trying to paint.

She glances through the violin list. There are a few she’s played that she can draw from for this. The Resphigi, Beethoven’s Kreutzer, which is certainly one of his more difficult works. She knows, from seeing Kylo Ren’s performances, owning his albums, that he prefers the more challenging works. Nothing is easy for him. Even the slower works he plays are moody and emotionally challenging.

Sight-reading something new. A contemporary piece, it says. She supposes he must have a number of those ready to go depending on the instrument. He wants to see how they’ll work together when tackling something new.

It’s a fair audition, certainly. And one she can shine in.

But does she want to?

“I think this is the chance you’ve been waiting for,” Luke says.

“It’s instant fame,” Rey responds with.

“Is that a good thing?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not really sure. He’s in the tabloids all the time.”

Luke makes a scoffing noise. “Don’t believe all the rot you read there.”

“I don’t.” Okay, she might buy them sometimes, read them in line at the grocery store other times. It’s fascinating seeing how the other side lives. She goes about her daily life, plays her music, takes her classes, all in relative obscurity.

“Good. Then you’ll consider it?”

She reads through it one more time. _Could_ this be the chance she’s been waiting for?

“Yes,” she finally says. “It’s a lot to think about.”

Luke stands then. “Then get thinking. You don’t have much time.”

With a nod, she gathers up the audition notice and leaves. She has a huge decision to make here.

* * *

“Kylo Ren, huh?” Finn says, reading the notice. “You’re sure about this?”

Rey lets out a small huff of laughter. “Not at all.” She leans back on her bed, closes her eyes, lets the music she’s put on help work out some of the kinks in her muscles. It’s her last week in the dorm she’s come to call home. Where she goes next is anyone’s guess. Luke has kindly offered her a bedroom in the huge mansion he calls home. _It’s too big for just me anyway_. She knows he feels for her. She’s aged out of the foster system long ago and she’s on her own. Her scholarship got her through college, but the small amount of money she’s saved up won’t get her too far without her getting a job first.

She figured she’d work at the local coffee shop that she sometimes pinch hits at during the school year. But beyond that? She has no idea.

“I can’t believe you still listen to this crap,” Finn says and Rey cracks one eye open.

“Finn, this music is _beautiful_.” She knows he’ll never love the minimalistic bent to the music of Kashyk. Half New Age, half minimalistic 20th century piano music, it defies any sort of real categorization. She finds it relaxing and beautiful. It soothes her in a way a lot of music doesn’t. She studies to it, goes to sleep to it, and apparently makes huge life decisions to it.

“It’s boring,” Finn shoots back with.

“I bet Kylo Ren thinks so too,” she muses, thinking of the program she’d heard from him the other night. Rachmaninoff, Shostakovich, he seems to prefer difficult and showy works, ones that show off all the power of his playing and complement the dark persona he seems to be cultivating.

“Yeah well, you better not play any of this namby-pamby stuff if you go audition for him.”

She’s going to do it, she realizes, picking up the notice again. She has to. Luke is right. This is a _huge_ opportunity. She doesn’t understand where it’s come from really, though Finn did point out a few less than stellar reviews lately. It seems people are getting tired of his one-man act, tired of the show pieces.

And someone wants something else, something fresh.

Maybe that will be her.

“I’m going to do it,” she announces.

“That’s the spirit!” Finn shouts, jumping up and rushing over to hug her. “Think of it as good experience if nothing else.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “Good experience.”

She hopes that’s exactly what it is. She can’t imagine it will be anything _but_ that, and she’ll be back to her not-so-exciting dream of performing in some random orchestra in some random city far from everything she loves.


	3. The Audition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey meets Snoke and auditions and Kylo has no idea how to react.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making a Spotify playlist of any of the pieces I mention in this work! So far just the ones mentioned here are in it. I'll keep adding to it and likely will start adding pieces that make me think of them. You can find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6xWCP7RRUdUJKlJTq6GTtY).

She’s ushered into a waiting room by a harried red-haired man. “Just…wait here,” he says in a clipped British accent, not so dissimilar to her own, and then rushes off.

She can see him in the hallway talking to someone else, a young man holding a violin case. The young man says something she can’t hear and then turns and walks away. There’s anger about his shoulders.

Another young woman is ushered in. She’s tall, probably at least as tall as Kylo Ren, and striking with her white-blond hair and bright blue eyes. “Phasma,” she says, offering Rey her hand. Her handshake is strong, not a surprise Rey thinks as she eyes the cello case the woman is carrying. She can see her with Kylo Ren on stage, certainly. There’s a power to her that would no doubt complement his own.

Rey can’t even begin to fathom how she could compete. She’s mousy, much more concerned with her playing than her looks. She tends to wear her hair as she has her whole life, pulled back into a ponytail or a three-bun configuration. Usually she wears no makeup, preferring to just crawl out of bed and get to classes. Today she’s at least picked out her nicest outfit and put on a little makeup. Her hair is still pulled back tight, and she’s still fairly prim and proper.

She knows he wants fire. She knows he, or this Snoke person at least, wants something sexy to put on stage with Kylo Ren.

Well, he’ll either accept her as a musician or not.

She just wishes it didn’t _matter_ so much to her. It shouldn’t, she keeps telling herself, even as she pours her heart into practicing. She’d had a scant few days to prepare, and so she’s been practicing until the music _bled_ out of her.

“Miss Kenobi?” comes the voice at the doorway and Rey’s head snaps up.

“Yes, that’s me.”

The woman watches her with a critical eye. “Come then.” She turns and walks away, clearly expecting Rey to just jump to it.

“Break a leg,” Phasma says.

Rey turns to give her a look that she’s sure is half-panicked. “Thanks.” She hates the small quaver to her voice. _Deep breaths, Rey. Deep breaths._

The woman takes her into a room, and Rey draws up short. The man sitting at the desk is _not_ Kylo Ren. He seems small there, frail, a shriveled raisin of a thing with a bald head that looks like it was cracked like an egg. She wonders just what the fuck happened to him, and then he looks up at her. And she feels pinned to the spot.

_Snoke_ , she thinks. This is Snoke. She knows little about him, but those cold eyes put her instantly on edge.

“Miss…Kenobi,” he says, glancing down at the paper in front of him. She can see her resume splayed out in front of him. “Very impressive resume,” he murmurs. “All State, full four-year scholarship to Ahch-to Conservatory, winner of their prestigious concerto competition.”

“Yes,” she responds with. They’re all things to be proud of, certainly. Though she knows in the real world it’s probably meaningless. What matters is the performance itself. The degrees behind the violin matter only so much as the education that got her where she is.

“Tell me why you think you’d be right for this… _position_?” He’s watching her and she feels a shiver go down her spine at the strange pause in his question.

_Just what is he after here?_

“My playing should stand on its own.”

Snoke coughs, one hand hitting the table hard, the other covering his mouth. Rey backs up a pace. He waves his hand at her. “I’m not ill, girl. Just tired of young upstarts thinking they’re better than they are.”

Rey leans closer to him, narrows her eyes on him. “What makes you think I’m _not_ right for this position?”

Snoke stands then and she’s surprised at how tall he is. He seemed so small sitting down. Upright, he’s clearly frail, tall and thin, and looks like a stiff breeze would knock him over. But there’s a power there despite the frailty. He comes around the desk to stand over her, one hand reaching toward her face.

She steps back.

“That,” he says, pointing a finger at her. “The right person will not back down.”

“The right person will not put up with your intimidation.”

Snoke laughs at that. “We shall see.” He snaps his fingers and the woman who had brought her to the room instantly reappears. She looks harried, now that she really takes the time to look at her. There are dark circles beneath her eyes and the smile seems forced.

“If you’ll follow me, Miss Kenobi?” And she turns on her heels.

And then she’s following the unnamed woman again. She’s not even wearing a nametag. Neither was the receptionist now that she thinks about it. It’s as if they simply don’t matter. She suspects they _don’t_. Not to Snoke.

Fuck, but he sends a shiver of unpleasantness right up her spine. She suspects he is _not_ someone she wants to get to know. Probably not someone she wants to work with. _Fuck it all, Rey, if you get the job, you’ll just have to put up with him_.

The woman opens a door and Rey walks through. She turns to say something to her, but the door is slamming behind her. And then she realizes she’s been sent into a room with a small stage. There’s a piano on it, one of the hulking concert grands that Kylo Ren seems to prefer. It takes up a good portion of the stage.

As she glances around the room, she notes the acoustic panels on the wall, the recording equipment set up in the middle. There are some seats there, but not many. It’s small, intimate.

“This is my practice room.” She whips around and sees Kylo Ren there, lurking off in the shadows.

He steps out and she’s struck again by just how _beautiful_ he is. Here he seems even more approachable, dressed in a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck. And he’s _watching_ her with his lips parted. “You,” he says.

“I told you I was a musician…”

“Yes, well…” The words trail off and he clamps his mouth shut. His eyes harden just a little, narrowing on her. “Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”

She can see him glance off to the side and she’s not sure, but she thinks she spies _someone_ there, lurking in the shadows of the small stage. _Snoke_ , she thinks, and shudders again.

As she walks up on stage and takes her instrument out, she can see Kylo take a seat down in the auditorium. _This is it Rey,_ she thinks as she puts the violin to her chin, tuning each string and playing a few quick notes to get a feel for the acoustics of the auditorium. That can change things. A truly live room requires a lighter touch, shorter notes for fear everything will just run together. It requires clarity and precision. A dry room requires length, requires her to give a little more, especially on chords.

Not surprisingly, the room is very alive. She can hear the notes echo back at her from all around. It’s disconcerting in a way. The auditoriums at Ahch-to are very dry. But Rey knows how to adjust. A few more notes, a few arpeggios and a quick scale, gives her all the information she needs.

“You like this room,” Kylo says. His voice is loud and clear, even from a distance away.

“It feels like an audience of its own,” Rey responds with.

He nods. “Good then. Have at it.”

With a deep breath, she puts the instrument to her chin, brings up her bow hand, and lays into the first G minor chord of Bach’s first Violin Sonata. It’s one of her favorite pieces, giving her a chance to show off not only the beauty of her sound, but her musicality.

The scale down, don’t rush it, then the next arpeggio with the suspension from G to F-sharp. She has to lean into that just a little, let it ring before resolving it. The switch from E-flat to E-natural on the upward scale, pushing it on.

She uses her vibrato as an ornament, driving the music forward where it needs to be, just slightly. It’s Baroque music after all, and she understands the style all too well. A little vibrato, an ornament here and there, a bit of _rubato_ , freeing up the melody from its rhythmic constraints. Too much and you push right into the Romantic era and that’s unconscionable.

Too little and it sucks all the beauty out of it.

She knows her instrument. And she knows it well.

When she finishes, she waits a moment. The second movement is a fugue, a type of music that most standardly is written for keyboard instruments. One instrument taking on multiple lines is not easy. Not just in the actual technicality of it, but in bringing out each individual line. She _loves_ it. It’s such a challenge and she never gets enough of the way it all feels under her fingers.

She’s about to launch into it when she sees movement out in the auditorium.

And then Kylo Ren is stomping his way down to the stage. He comes to stand just below her, his eyes narrowing as he looks up at her. “Bach?” he asks.

“Yes?”

He makes a movement like he’s thinking about leaping up onto the stage and she’s almost sure that he _could_. His legs are that long, and he rather clearly works out to maintain that body. But instead, he crosses his arms over his chest, and she watches the way a muscle twitches in his jaw. His eyes shift to the side again and she’s sure that Snoke is there, egging him on.

“Do you even know who I am? What I play?” The last is accompanied by a strange note in the back of his throat. “You come here to audition for _me,_ and you play _Bach_?”

She pulls herself up to her full height and enjoys at least this one moment of looking down on him. “Bach is perfectly acceptable.” Her voice is clipped, and she raises her chin slightly. No one has ever questioned Bach. His music might be _safe_ to play in an audition, but it’s not easy, and it’s common audition repertoire for violinists, especially when asked to play something unaccompanied.

“I don’t _want_ ‘perfectly acceptable’.” The last is said in a rather terrible imitation of her own accent. “I want _fire_.”

She should be taken aback at the snarl to his voice, but she’s not. She takes a step toward the edge of the stage and squats down to more easily meet his eyes. She’s almost amused to see him take half a step back, eyes not quite able to meet hers. “You want _fire_.”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” There’s an almost petulant bent to his voice, and she watches as he glances to the side again. And she wants to reach out, grab his chin, pull his eyes back to her.

She turns and glares off into the wings of the auditorium. She can’t see him there, but she can _feel_ him, an unsettling presence that seems to hang over everything around them. There’s something about Snoke. It’s more than his just _not_ being a nice man. He makes her skin crawl, and she wonders what kind of effect that must have on Kylo Ren, who has to see him day in and day out.

The man she met the night before is not the snarling beast standing before her now.

Or maybe the man she met the night before had been mellowed by drink and exhaustion, amused by the presence of one of the students.

She doesn’t know who’s real.

_He wants fire, he’ll get fire_. She straightens then, her eyes still on him as she puts the violin to her chin. She’s not normally one who gravitates to such pieces, usually finding them showy and ostentatious, lacking in musicality, but she’s perfectly well capable of playing something with _fire_. A little Paganini ought to put him in his place.

She doesn’t look away from him as she draws the bow over the strings. She loves the opening. It’s massive chords over all four strings of her instruments, from the lowest A to the harmonic so high sometimes she thinks only dogs can hear it. She loves the high, clear sound up there, the feel of the instrument so far up the neck.

The first chord she digs into, hitting it _hard_. He steps back at the sound, crosses his arms. As she flies down the scale, an unexpected bit of harmonic minor, his eyes stay trained on her face. She loves that scale. When she was growing up it was her favorite sound, so exotic to her uninformed ears. She imagined it being some strange bit of Egyptian music or something. It wasn’t, of course, but to her it was as exotic as one got in the deserts of Arizona. And she used to _love_ running up and down it on her violin.

When she launches into the next section, she leans forward slightly, and meets his eyes. _Agitato_ , it’s marked and she takes it at a _brutal_ pace, letting the bow bounce across the strings as she hits each note.

For a moment, Kylo does nothing, but then his hands unclench, fall to his sides. She’s surprised to see him turn away from her, but then realizes he’s heading to the steps that lead to the stage. He crosses slowly, his tread light, as if he doesn’t want to disturb her.

He comes close.

Too close.

He’s standing just a couple feet away from her as she continues, his generous mouth half open as he stares at her. She’s not noticed before just how lovely his mouth his. Almost feminine, really, in its plushness, and the intensity in his eyes has her leaning just slightly toward him.

When she finishes, ending the piece in a flourish, a change to A Major, and a dramatic fight to the finish, he says nothing.

He’s still watching her.

And then he steps around her, going to sit at the piano.

Rey whirls and wonders, not for the first time, just what the hell is going on.

* * *

She’s…more than he expected.

It’s not that the Bach wasn’t lovely. It was. It showed all the technical brilliance and musicality in the world. But he needs _more_.

And she gives it.

With fire not only through her bow, but in her eyes. She stares him down as she launches into Niccolo Paganini’s fifth Caprice. It’s one of the more difficult ones, not that anything Paganini wrote was _easy_. He was, ultimately, one of the rock stars of his day, as much as Liszt was on the piano. Both preferred to write works that others of the time couldn’t play.

But this _Rey_ can. He can hardly believe she’s just graduating from college. That puts her nearly 10 years his junior, yet her command of the instrument is near perfection. He watches her as she plays, as _she_ watches him. She’s angry and she is _glorious_ in her anger. Color high on her cheeks, eyes flashing fire at him.

And then she launches into the _Agitato_ part of the piece and he can’t help himself. He’s drawn toward her as if she were the sun and he an orbiting planet, walking up onto stage to watch from close by, to bask in someone who he’s more than certain is his musical equal.

When she’s done, he says nothing. He can feel Snoke somewhere off in the wings watching carefully. He knows he’s supposed to ask her what piece she might like to play with him, to see how they work together.

Or, worse, perhaps. Snoke is waiting for him to dismiss her. He knows he’d like that. Snoke is looking for _something_. Ben really has no idea what he wants. He’s told him, in his typically cryptic way, that he’ll know it when he sees it.

He’s pretty sure Rey is not it. She’s beautiful, certainly. She has the fire he’d like to perform with. And she definitely has the technique and clearly the love for the music. It’s an all-consuming thing, the love for the music. It’s in every part of you, seeped into your very pores. It informs every decision in your life, bends you to its will time and time again.

He's been up in the middle of the night, practicing, composing, letting the music shape him. It’s what it does. It’s what _he_ does. The music flows through his veins and arteries, wraps around his heart, bleeds into his brain. It’s as much a part of him as his eyes or hands.

He takes a deep breath.

Then another.

And then finally steps around her to sit at the piano. His home, the only place he feels truly comfortable, truly free. He takes a moment to run his hands over the keys, caressing the whites first, and then running his hands along the thinner black keys. It’s a ritual, really, something he does every time he sits down at his instrument.

Today is no different. He takes that moment, and he can feel her staring at him. Wondering. Worried.

And then his hands come down on the keys and he’s off like a shot, launching into the third movement of Respighi’s Sonata for Violin and Piano. It starts with a dark, strangely jaunty melody in the piano before the violin dives in. It’s fun almost, really, watching the way she blinks once or twice, staring at him.

But then she’s there.

_Right there_.

The violin under her chin and her face scrunched up in concentration. He’ll have to work on that with her. She has to look relaxed, comfortable, and she _will_. He’ll make sure they’ve practiced so many times that it’s second nature, that she can throw herself into the music headfirst as he does.

They play off each other, exchanging lines, driving each other forward. They pass triplet figures back and forth, and as he glances up at her, he sees her start to relax. She sways slightly, a bit of a dip of the violin as she presses into one particularly difficult passage.

One moment he has the melody.

The next she does.

She falls perfectly into his sound, underneath and over it, and he finds a strange shiver working its way down his spine, settling in places he was sure were long dead.

_Fuck_.

He’s pretty sure he’s getting hard. His pants suddenly feel tighter than usual, and he tries to pull his mind away from that. Ben Solo doesn’t feel attraction. Not like this. And yet at that moment they’re so connected, as if there’s some force in the universe tying them together.

They pick up the pace, careening headlong into the most complicated part. Kylo Ren takes the melody, a great crashing thing, punctuated and dramatic. Rey takes the line that flits around it, adding color in a quick-flying pace. He watches her, she watches him. And then together they crash headlong into the slow section.

A backing off of the volume, the piano takes the lead and the violin follows, weaving in and out of the texture. A key change, a calming of the passion, but no less intense. And he forgets to do anything but watch _her_. Her eyes are shut through this part, as if she knows how he’s going to react, as if she knows how to fit into his sound and how he’ll fit into hers.

They take the _ritard_ , slowing down, and he almost holds his breath as he waits for it all to fall to pieces,

It doesn’t.

She opens her eyes and meets his.

He nods at her, just once, as they move together.

And then he’s off again, _Molto Allegro e Agitato_. Faster, more agitated. The entire ending is a study in being able to read each other. Slow sections interspersed with faster ones, the need for communication is real.

As it all comes to a stop, Rey indicating the final cut off with a nod of her head and a flourish of her bow, they’re both breathing hard.

She keeps the instrument up to her chin.

He keeps his hands poised over the keys.

He doesn’t know what happens next. He only knows one thing. It’s her. It absolutely must be her. There’s no one else. There _can’t_ be.

She finally takes the instrument away from her chin, but she doesn’t take her eyes off him. He stands then, closing the lid of the piano. He wants to say something. How does one say _you’re hired_ exactly? This is out of the realm of Ben Solo’s experience. And so he does what Ben Solo does best. He leaves.

Ridiculous, he knows.

But there it is.

He stands and stalks off the stage, leaving Rey to no doubt stare after him. He doesn’t turn to look at her though, so he doesn’t know. He just…he can _feel_ her there, the weight of her gaze, the shock of his sudden departure.

_You’re a coward, Ben Solo_. He always has been.

Snoke is waiting in the wings, smile splitting his face like the Grinch of the Christmas tale. “I’ll just see her out then, shall I?”

Ben stops then. “No,” he says. “I want her.”

“She’s not the right…”

“I _want_ her,” Ben says, turning to face his manager. The smile is no longer on Snoke’s face, and he’s starting to look annoyed.

“Don’t think with your cock, boy.”

Ben makes a slashing motion with his hand. “That’s not what I mean.” And he tries to ignore the traitorous jolt of that very appendage. It’s not something he’s felt very often, certainly not like this. He feels so connected to her, as if her very essence has crawled inside him. “She’s the one.”

Snoke starts to say something else.

“It’s her or no one,” Ben snarls at him.

He watches as Snoke turns and stares at Rey, who’s still standing on stage. She looks confused, her brow scrunched up in a way that makes him want to walk back, smooth it out, hand her the whole world on a silver platter.

“She’s not the right one,” Snoke says. “She’s not…”

“She has to be. Because I’m done with these auditions. Write up her contract or whatever.” He waves a hand in the air and turns to leave.

He’s stopped for a moment by Snoke’s bony hand reaching out to grasp his wrist. “Settle yourself, boy,” Snoke murmurs, leaning close to him. “You can have your precious violin girl, but if she fails, you fail. If there’s so much as one article that questions her place on your program, you’re done. I’ll cut you off and you will _never_ play piano in public again.”

Ben yanks his hand back and Snoke releases him. He glances back at Rey for a moment, and her eyes meet his. He can see the worry there. He doesn’t need her worry. He doesn’t want it. He’s chosen his life, gone down this path, and there’s no return. With a snarl, he pushes away from Snoke and stalks off.

It’s probably not the appropriate thing to do. He probably should go back and tell Rey she’s got the job. He should probably make arrangements for a first rehearsal or a meeting to discuss what pieces they’re going to play. But he can’t deal with it. Not now.

Not with Snoke there.

He can get her information from the receptionist and contact her later, when Snoke is not there. He needs to meet with her. He needs to get to know her.

Fuck. This is not his normal reaction to _anyone_. But he finds he wants to know _everything_ about her.

He is so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so this was like 4000 words of musical lust. Sorry about that guys. Hope I didn't lose anyone.


	4. The Job is Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Snoke _really_ does not like Rey, Kylo _really_ does, and there's some celebration.

She watches as Kylo Ren has a short, rather terse conversation with Snoke, and then he stalks off. There’s anger in every line of his body, a stiffness to his back, a snarl to those generous lips of his.

She doesn’t know what happened.

She’s never played like that before, not with anyone. And she’s had some excellent accompanists throughout her time at the college. But Kylo Ren…there’s that fire he speaks of, certainly. But there’s more. An intensity in the way he communicates with her, in the way his dark eyes meet hers, the way he stares as if he can see into her soul.

And the connection was instant. She’s never felt anything like it. They had communicated on a level she’s never experienced. They’ve never played together before that day, don’t even know each other outside of one brief conversation, and yet they were able to bounce phrases off each other, meld their sounds together, meet each other fire for fire. She’s still breathing hard when he disappears, left standing on a stage all by herself.

One hand grips the neck of her violin a little harder than she’d like, the other holds the bow listlessly at her side. She looks out into the darkened auditorium and wonders if this had been all been a mistake, if she should have come here at all.

_Well, that’s that then, Rey._

_Fuck_.

_Orchestra auditions it is._

She’s turning to pick up her case, when she hears the sound of footsteps. When she turns back, it’s not Kylo Ren as she hoped. It’s Snoke. And he looks anything but pleased, eyes narrowed, lips pursed, as if he had somehow sucked on a lemon.

“That was _quite_ impressive, Miss Kenobi,” he says as he comes closer to her.

She has to draw on every reserve of strength she still has left to stay where she is. She won’t let this wrinkled prune of an old man cow her. She’s come so far, from the kid punted from one terrible foster home to another to someone who can hold her own against the great Kylo Ren. Snoke, whoever he is, will _not_ take her down.

“ _I_ thought so,” she says.

He laughs and the sound grates along every nerve. “Well, at least you’re not the wilting flower I thought you were.”

“I’ve never been called as such.”

Snoke doesn’t respond, just keeps watching her. “Well, then Miss Kenobi. Allow me to see you out.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?” She picks up her case then, brings out the cloth to wipe down her violin before placing it snugly inside it. It’s all so automatic at this point. Wipe down the violin, release the tension on the horsehair of her bow, make sure everything is securely in the case before closing it. It’s part of the ritual, part of the ending to every performance.

She turns to it now as her stomach drops into her shoes, as her heart rate speeds up.

When she’s done, Snoke waves her ahead of him toward the exit of the auditorium. She precedes him, head held high. She won’t let him see her cry; she won’t beg. When the receptionist meets them, she sees Snoke nod.

“We’ll be in touch, Miss Kenobi,” Snoke says.

The receptionist turns to the others sitting in the waiting room. “You’re all dismissed.” There’s a groan of disappointment. “I’m sorry, but it seems the auditions are now over.”

She can feel all eyes on her, and she whips back around. Snoke is leaving. That’s all he’s going to tell her. _We’ll be in touch_. He looks so… _annoyed_ about it, she realizes. His voice is dripping with it, his body tense, and lips still so pursed.

“I got the job, didn’t I?” she asks.

He hesitates at the doorway. “For now,” is all he says, and then he’s gone.

She’s left alone with the receptionist and the glares of the other musicians as they depart.

* * *

“It’s celebration time!” Finn shouts, holding his beer aloft.

Rose sits at his side, leaning into him, one hand on his leg. “You’re going to play with _Kylo Ren_.” Her eyes are wide. “God, how are you even going to handle it? He’s ridiculously hot.”

“ _Rose_ ,” Rey hisses at her, nodding her head toward Finn.

Finn shrugs. “She’s not lying. He _is_.”

Rey just rolls her eyes. She’s never been one to check out other people when she’s in a relationship. Not that she’s had many. They’ve really been so few and far between. It’s really kind of adorable how comfortable Finn and Rose are with each other. They were teenagers when Finn had pulled her aside one night to tell her he thought he was attracted to men. As it turned out, he was attracted to men _and_ women. He and Rose have been together for so long that she sometimes forgets that.

“Hey guys, what’s this I hear about our Rey getting a fancy new gig?” Poe Dameron’s arrived and all eyes turn toward him. The only non-string player of the bunch, he graduates this year as well with a master’s degree in trumpet. He tends to command attention the same way his instrument does.

“Rey’s playing with _Kylo Ren_ ,” Finn says in a stage whisper.

Poe’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really then? I thought he was a solo player.”

He pulls up a seat and that’s when Rey realizes he’s not alone. Dr. Amilyn Holdo, director of the Ahch-To Symphony Orchestra, stands just slightly behind him. He waves her to the seat next to him and she sits, a bit awkwardly, until Poe takes her hand.

Finn watches with wide eyes and Rey has to elbow him in the stomach to get him to _stop_.

“Thanks for joining us, Dr. Holdo,” Rey says.

Poe laughs.

Holdo, to her credit, seems to take it all in stride. “Please, Rey. You’re no longer my student as of this weekend. Please call me Amilyn.”

“You’re going to have to,” Poe says. “You’ll be seeing a lot more of her.”

Rey wants to ask how this all came to be, but she supposes the hallmarks have been there for some time., She wonders, really, how long they’ve been involved. Poe’s been with his fair share of both women and men. He’s almost _never_ seen alone, often holding hands with someone, and sometimes doing things that Rey really thinks ought to be left to behind closed doors.

Now that she thinks of it, she hasn’t seen him with anyone in some months. And he had stopped hitting on her, which he seems to do every time he’s single. She brushes him aside every time, and he knows she’s going to. But he does it anyway. And it’s not even that she doesn’t enjoy Poe’s company or that he’s not handsome. He most certainly is, but she’s never felt any connection with him. 

_Not like you did with Kylo Ren_.

She shakes her head, tries to push that all away.

“So what is this I hear about Kylo Ren?” Amilyn asks.

“Yeah,” Poe responds with. “Tell us more, Rey.”

“What’s there to tell? I auditioned. I won the spot.” _We’ll be in touch…_ They hadn’t yet, though she doesn’t know when to expect her contract to come through, when he’ll want to start rehearsals.

“A lot more than _that_ ,” Rose says. “I mean, _Rey_. What’s he like?” Rose’s eyes are bright as she leans closer to her. “I mean, you gotta spill.”

Rey shrugs. “He’s intense.”

“Anyone with half a brain can tell you that,” Poe says.

“No, I mean, _really_ intense. And serious. I didn’t see him smile once. He hated the Bach.”

Finn lets out a gasp, hand coming to his chest, as he rolls his eyes and falls back against the booth they’re sitting in. “He doesn’t like _Bach_?” Johann Sebastian Bach is, as far as Finn is concerned, a _God_. He’s played every single one of his Celle suites and considers himself something of an expert in the works. His senior thesis had been an analysis of several performances of the third suite and included a performance in which Finn took what he considered the best of each performance and turned it into his own.

“I don’t know if he doesn’t like Bach, but his music doesn’t have enough _fire_ for him.” She wants to roll her eyes. She had thought it ridiculous at best, but after performing with him, after feeling the fire in his veins that somehow got into her own, she understands.

“Fire,” Finn scoffs.

“I get it,” Rose says. “We all saw his performance. He goes for the great big romantic works. Liszt, Rachmaninoff.”

Finn wrinkles his nose.

“I almost auditioned,” Poe says.

Rey lets out a small huff of laughter. “You wouldn’t have gotten to the audition. I saw the receptionist send every guy who came in on his way.”

“He wanted a woman?”

“Someone did,” Rey says. Someone, but she’s not sure it was Kylo Ren himself. “I think it might have been his manager…”

“Snoke,” Amilyn says, and there’s a darkness to the word.

“You know him?” Rey asks, leaning toward her a little.

“Everyone knows Snoke,” she says with a shrug. “Or rather, we all know _of_ him. We see him at the parties and do everything we can to avoid him.”

Rey nods. “He gave me the creeps. There is definitely something _off_ about him.”

“There are rumors…” Amilyn starts to say but then drifts off.

“Oh come _on_ ,” Finn says. “You can’t just stop there.”

“They’re not pretty. Abuses heaped on the musicians he manages, stories of back room deals and inappropriate touching of young women.”

“And men,” Poe interjects with.

Amilyn nods. “I’ve heard that too.”

Rey feels a shiver work her way down her spine. “I’m not surprised.”

“Be careful, Rey,” Poe says, his eyes dark and serious, mouth set in a grim line. “We don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I’ll be with Kylo Ren,” she starts to say.

“What if he’s in on it?” Finn asks, and she can see the panic building in his eyes. “Rey, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

She blinks once, twice. _Could_ he be? No…she remembers the way he stared at her, his lips parted. She remembers the way he approached, strangely awkward and yet so _focused_ , remembers the way his chest rose and fell as they finished the Respighi together.

“No. He’s not in on it. I saw him talking to Snoke after my audition and he seemed really angry at him.” She hadn’t been able to hear a word said between them, but she had seen Kylo Ren pointing at her, had seen Snoke cross his spindly arms over his chest. It was clear they were talking about her and from the way Snoke had come to her, looking like he wanted to do anything but deal with her, she’s sure Kylo Ren had demanded that he hire her and Snoke had been forced to deal with it.

Snoke hadn’t even wanted to tell her that she had been selected.

She doesn’t know what he has against her. Though if what he’s looking for is some hot young thing to sit on stage with Kylo Ren, drawing in the young male crowd and just being a backdrop to Kylo’s playing? Well, she supposes she can see where the disappointment there lies.

Rey is not a passive player, and she’s no one’s eye candy. She had dressed up for the audition, of course, even put on some makeup. But she still looked “natural,” and no matter how much padding she put in her bra, she was still small on top.

But Kylo Ren didn’t seem to care.

He seemed to want her for her music. And _that_ is the only important thing. Snoke’s needs? Snoke’s wants? They only matter so much as they keep Kylo Ren employed.

“Still,” Finn says. “Be careful.”

“Of course.” She’s always careful, something that’s been honed from her years in often shady foster homes. Snoke wouldn’t be the first creepy older man to try something with her. Granted, the last one had spent quite some time regretting it and she’s not sure if he can father children at this point, but still. She’s careful. She always will be. “Don’t worry about me Finn.” She looks at Rose and then at Poe and Amilyn. “Any of you, really. I can hold my own.”

“I have no doubt of it,” Poe says. “But we worry.”

“We know you never back down from a fight,” Rose says.

“And I won’t,” Rey responds with. “Now can we just celebrate the fact that I got a job and it’s _not_ playing last chair in some no-name orchestra?”

“Here, here!” Poe says, and they all raise their glasses, Rey’s the only non-alcoholic one of the bunch, in a toast.

* * *

“No,” Ben says, shoving the contract back across the desk to Snoke.

Snoke sighs, overly dramatic to a fault. “Now, boy, the whole concept here is that she’s window dressing.” He pushes the contract back to Ben. “She’s not meant to upstage you.”

“We’re supposed to be partners.”

Snoke waves a hand in the air. “She’s here to draw crowds, nothing more. She’ll play a few pieces on each concert…”

“And make half the money I make? No,” Ben says. He pulls the contract to him and draws a few big slashes across the page. “She’s not window dressing. She does not have to wear…” He squints at the page. “Something that shows off her ‘assets.’” He looks up to glare at Snoke.

His manager shrugs. “She doesn’t have much, so I can understand why…”

Ben snarls something incoherent and makes another slash across the page with his pen. “She and I are _equals_ or we don’t do this.” Another slash. “She can dress as she sees fit.” Slash. “And she gets one solo piece per concert.” He remembers her performance of the Paganini, a glorious performance full of all the fire he had asked of her.

“Are you trying to ruin your career?”

“I thought this was going to save it.”

“Only if you do what I ask,” Snoke roars at him.

He won’t let him get the upper hand here. “And we do a recording together.”

Snoke throws his hands up in the air. “What is it about this girl that has you so on edge?” The words are snarled at Ben and he recoils a little bit at their force. “Do I not set you up with the most beautiful women the world has to offer? Does your dick not get wet enough with them? Bazine came to me after…”

“Bazine is a vapid and childish woman looking for the next great thing…”

“Now listen to me, boy. I made you. I can break you.” He grabs the contract back. “No solo piece. She plays for three quarters of the concert and makes that much less than you. She doesn’t have to wear a short skirt.”

“Fine,” Ben says. “And I get some say over the music we perform.”

Snoke nods. “As always.”

Not that Ben ever _really_ got to choose. If he’s going to be completely honest, the entire program, the entire concept of Kylo Ren, is Snoke’s creation. Ben had, early on, expressed a desire to be free of his parent’s influence, to be taken seriously on his own merits. His mother had a great love of Mozart and was the preeminent coloratura soprano of her day. His uncle was one of the most revered performers of Chopin.

But Ben Solo? _No_ …Kylo Ren? He was fire and passion, nothing held back. He was hitting the keys as hard as he could, hands flying. He was Late Romantic music with a darkness that sits on a knife’s edge, just waiting for him to tumble over it.

He was classical music’s bad boy. A different woman on his arm every week, models dumped for the next great thing. His musical choices are rough around the edges, just as he is.

And he’s not really sure which is worse for him these days…having people know he’s Ben Solo, son of Leia Organa and Han Solo, just another musician in a family of musicians. Or having them think he’s this depraved individual who has fucked his way through half the models and actresses of the world.

He hates both, really. He hates being part of a musical dynasty, handed things because _oh you’re a Solo? I knew your mother back when she was in the Magic Flute_. His mother was renowned for her version of the famous Queen of the Night aria. So much so that, quite frankly, if he never had to hear it again it would be too soon.

But sometimes he thinks he hates being Kylo Ren more. He hates hearing Snoke call him _boy_. He hates feeling like no matter how much he pushes himself, no matter how difficult the music or how fast he takes it, he’s still not good enough. Snoke still finds ways to punish him.

And now he’s going to do the same to Rey.

Snoke doesn’t like her. He doesn’t know _why_ , but it’s rather clear that Snoke was hoping for anyone else. Perhaps he fears she’ll upstage him. Frankly, Ben is a little worried about that too. But at the same time, he’s not going to easily forget the way they played off of each other. That alone is worth Snoke’s ire.

He's never relished the thought of playing with someone before. He has done it when needed of course, but the past six years of his life has been devoted to promoting the _Kylo Ren_ brand: creating his persona, his stage presence, pushing the literature for solo piano.

“Good,” he finally says.

Snoke watches him for another moment. He looks like he wants to say _something_. And Ben wonders sometimes how his life has come to this. He hired Snoke. He’s supposed to be his manager, but in reality Snoke calls the shots. And Ben often doesn’t get any say.

There’s this small part, deep down inside him, that longs to break free, become his own man, his own musician. But that part stays hidden, pushed away when Snoke is around. When he is, he’s Kylo. Snoke won’t even call him by his real name, and in some way that suits. He can keep this part of his life separate from who he really is.

And Snoke will never have to know. Kylo Ren exudes confidence, the kind that women fall all over, the kind that critics either applaud or criticize as arrogance. He looks calm. He looks cool. He looks collected, as if he knows who he is and what he’s about.

Yet still, every single night before every single concert, he’s in the bathroom, hanging over the toilet, afraid he’s going to lose his lunch. He’s putting something called rescue remedy under his tongue just to calm his nerves. Fuck, he used to give it to his _dog_ when there were thunderstorms, but it’s made for people too. He hides it in his medicine cabinet, keeps it in a hidden pocket of the messenger bag he carries his music in. It’s as much a part of his routine as putting on the gloves, the opera cloak that he’s going to toss carelessly aside at the performance.

“We’ll just have Miss Unamo get her the contract?” Snoke ventures.

Ben nods. “Yes. And tell her I’ll be in touch about rehearsals once she signs it.”

“And what if she doesn’t?” Snoke looks almost gleeful at the prospect.

“Then I’ll call her anyway.” He stands then, waits for Snoke to say something else, but the older man just looks up at him, eyes narrowed. And Ben has the feeling he’s going to want to read the contract given to her. There’s just something about the way Snoke is acting, that makes him worry he’s going to put something into the contract.

He'd agreed too quickly.

Too easily.

Ben steps to the receptionist’s desk, and leans over. “Can you send me a copy of that contract when you send it to Miss Kenobi?”

She looks around him, and he knows she’s looking for Snoke. She’s _Snoke’s_ receptionist after all, not Ben’s. But she finally concedes with a nod. “Of course, sir.”

With one more nod and a glance back to the room Snoke is still sitting in. Ben departs. He has a lot of planning to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one is a bit of a filler to get us from one point to the other. There will be plenty more Kylo and Rey interaction in the next one!
> 
> Unamo, btw, is [Nastia Unamo](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Nastia_Unamo).


	5. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey and Kylo Ren hash out some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about pulling the chapter down and then reposting it. Something went wrong with the images and they weren't embedding properly. Hopefully this time is better! If it's _not_ you can read it without the formatting on FFN [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13469487/5/I-Due-Fiumi).

She receives the contract only a handful of days after her audition. It seems that Kylo Ren is desperate to get her signed on. She’s about to sign it when Finn reaches out a hand and slaps it away from the paper.

“What?”

Finn shakes his head. “You’re just going to _sign_ it?”

“Well, duh,” she responds with, and spits her tongue out at him. It’s an old thing between them, harkening back to their days as youths bonding over a bad foster home, over being kicked from place to place. She hates those foster years, but she wouldn’t take them back. Not if it meant she never met Finn. He’s like a brother to her.

“You really should read it first. That Snoke guy…”

“He’s shady, I know.” She looks down at the contract, several pages of legalese that she doubts she even understands. “You’re right.”

“Good. Take a few days to read it over carefully. Get a lawyer if you need to.”

She scoffs at that. “With what money?”

“Ok, talk to Dr. Skywalker, maybe? I’m sure he could help if needed.” He _was_ the one that pushed her to audition for Kylo Ren, even knowing he had Antoine Snoke as his manager. Skywalker had to know what the man was like. He had to know what _Kylo Ren_ was like. She wonders, sometimes, just how much Luke Skywalker really knows. He somehow seemed to _know_ that she would be chosen.

When she’d come into his office to tell him, he’d just nodded and said _I thought so_. He’s exceedingly cryptic sometimes. She doesn’t think she’ll ever completely understand him.

“I’ll read through it. If I have questions…” She shrugs. Really, how bad can it be?

* * *

It’s _bad_.

Rey reads through it with such a feeling of betrayal and distaste on her tongue that she can barely believe it. She wonders, as she reads and re-reads it, if any of this was written by Kylo Ren himself. Or if Snoke had his hands in the entire thing.

As she flips to the last page, a business card falls out, and she picks it up. Kylo Ren’s. With an e-mail address. Well, thank fucking God for that much. She was afraid she’d have to communicate with Snoke and that just is _not_ going to happen. It’s not often Rey takes an instant dislike to someone, but well, she supposes it has to happen on occasion.

* * *

Kylo has a copy of the contract. But he pulls up the PDF file she attached anyway. He’s shaking his head, wondering just what Miss Comic Sans would take issue with when he realizes that her version of the contract is different than the one the receptionist sent to him. _Vastly_ different.

He wonders if she’ll just accept it and move on.

Well, fuck. Clearly, she’s not going to just accept it. Fucking Snoke. He knew that he’d agreed to Ben’s changes way too easily. Snoke was not someone who was used to having others get their way. He had, from all accounts, clawed his way to the top, trampling anyone who dared to get in his way and stepping on their backs to reach higher and higher.

Snoke Enterprises was well known for taking over other businesses. Snoke had wormed his way into ownership of a local baseball team, gotten his name on one of the area high schools, and had bought up a few different record companies.

Including his father’s, which is why Han Solo and his band formed their own small record label, The Resistance, in retaliation. He’d been invited to join them, of course, his father begging him to come home and record for them, but he’d refused.

He wanted something big, something grand.

Sometimes he really regrets it.

* * *

She’s skeptical at best, pulling up the PDF attachment with great trepidation.

Much of the contract is the same. No solo pieces for Rey, though there’s a notation in the margin in bold handwriting that states Kylo may amend that at any time and offer her a solo moment. _If he deems her worthy_ , is not so implicitly implied, but still. It’s more than Snoke was offering. She suspects the handwriting is Kylo’s, because who else would be able to amend the contract in such a way?

She’s going to be paid well, but she suspects not _as_ well as Kylo. His name appears first on the programs, of course, and they’re still _his_ programs. She expects no less, really.

* * *

As soon as he hits send, he wonders how she’s going to interpret that one.

Yup, she took that about as well as he expected, really.

Quite the opposite, really. His mind automatically supplies the requisite image. Rey standing at the piano’s side, a sultry look on her face, as she plays that _Agitato_ section of the Paganini. Rey watching him as she plays. Rey getting down on her knees.

“Fuck!” he explodes out with.

This isn’t him. He doesn’t just meet a woman and want to take her to bed. In fact, he’s _never_ met a woman and wanted to take her to bed. Not once in the entirety of his 32 years has he, well, done _that_.

And yet he can’t get the images out of his head. Rey with her legs spread out before him on his bed. Fuck, he has no idea what he’d even do with her, do _to_ her. Outside of the few porn flicks he’d been forced to awkwardly sit through during his college days, he has no experience with women at all.

This whole thing is so fucking ridiculous.

* * *

She’s toying with him now. She almost feels bad about it. She’s backed the poor guy into a corner. Anything he says from here on out is going to be awkward and uncomfortable. And she has _no_ idea why she’s doing this to him.

Or herself, really.

Ok ok…she knows why she’s doing it.

He’s hot.

There. She can admit it to herself, can’t she? The way those large hands of his dance over the piano keys, the lips that she finds strangely feminine and yet no doubt kissable, the set of his slightly crooked jaw and the dark eyes. It all adds up to a picture that, she can admit to _herself_ at least, she finds quite attractive.

Professional. That’s what she needs to be. This is a _professional_ relationship and it would do her good to remember that. No matter how hot her soon-to-be musical partner is, they have nothing more than a business relationship.

* * *

He frowns at her latest message.

There had been such a playfulness about the previous ones. He’d been thinking up a witty retort. Ok, well, not _thinking_ up one exactly. He’d been googling for something funny and clever to say in response to what she’d written.

 _It would look better on my floor_.

Oh my God, do men really say that?

 _You’d look better in nothing_.

He had blushed as he’d written the words and quickly backspaced over them. Thank God for the internet and the ability to completely obliterate everything typed without another soul seeing it.

He had still been staring at the blank e-mail he had drawn up when her second e-mail arrived.

He takes a deep breath, and wonders what he had done wrong. _Everything_. Probably everything. _Fuck_. He doesn’t mean to make things awkward, not so soon. But there’s one thing Ben Solo has _never_ been good at, and that’s talking to women. Oh, he can talk for hours about his favorite composers, his favorite pieces. He can geek out over his favorite movies.

But actually talking to _women_.

No.

He is certainly _not_ his father’s son, something his father had lamented for many years before Ben had separated himself from the old man and cut off all contact. He didn’t need to be constantly reminded that he was a complete embarrassment. Han Solo was everything Ben could never be. Suave, confident, good with the _ladies_. When Ben goes on stage, when he stands with his arm around whatever model Snoke has picked for him, he channels his father.

No, it’s more than that.

He pretends he _is_ his father. Han Solo knows how to charm the ladies, giving them a roguish grin and a wink, no doubt inviting them back to his hotel room. And so Ben does this too, play acts as if he’s his father.

But then he leaves them with little more than a mumbled apology. They all think he thinks he’s too good for them. They think he’s haughty and rude.

If only they knew the real Ben Solo.

Because he is _terrified_ every single moment that he’s going to be outed as the fraud he is.

He stares at his stage name for a moment. Should Rey, of all, people, call him that? Should she know that Kylo Ren is just a fraud, just someone made up by Snoke? There had been no discussion when he met with Snoke, not about that at least. Snoke expected him to basically run roughshod over her any chance he got, making sure _he_ was some sort of alpha male to her beta.

He gets the impression that _Rey_ most certainly does not see herself that way.

And he _likes_ it. There’s fire in more than just her playing.

Maybe he’ll tell her. Sometime. Probably if he has too much to drink, which is not something Ben Solo does very often. He’s so very careful to keep his persona in place when he’s in public that the thought of losing any bit of himself to alcohol or worse, to some of the drugs he sees people passing around at after-parties, makes his stomach turn a bit.

No, he’ll keep up the persona as best he can.

Even if he’s pretty sure she’ll see right through it in no time.

He’s not sure if he’s looking forward to that day. Or dreading it.

* * *

It’s the middle of the night when he next hears from her, just a missive to tell him that she’s dropped the contract off and now that graduation is done, she’s free to begin rehearsals whenever he wants.

He waits for Snoke’s call, for Snoke to berate him, for Snoke to realize that the contract she’s signed is not the one he had sent her. But nothing comes. He knows Snoke must know. His receptionist keeps a careful eye on things. No doubt she’s already gone through the contract, noted Ben’s own handwriting on parts of it, and relayed said information to his manager.

There will be fall-out.

When it comes to Snoke, there always is.

There are times he doesn’t know why he even sticks with him, why he doesn’t just walk away from it all. Find something else to do with his life. But what would he do? Who is he without his career?

There’s a whisper in the back of his mind that he’s more than Kylo Ren, more than these concerts and more than Snoke could ever know. But that’s hidden, so deep inside him that even he barely acknowledges it. It comes out in the middle of the night, when he’s half asleep. In a near-trance, he’ll wander out of his bedroom at 2:00am, 3:00am, sit down at the piano, and what comes out is so radically different than what Kylo Ren performs that sometimes he laughs.

It's freeing, really. Feeling the pulse of that music flowing through him.

And it’s a side of himself no one will ever know of

He sends her back a note that they should meet first, hash out what their first program will be. He expects a fight.

* * *

His next e-mail is curt and to the point. A meeting, at a coffee house. She supposes it’s as safe a place as any.

She doesn’t bother to sign it.

He doesn’t either. But it’s all she needs.

* * *

When she steps into the coffee house, a few minutes past the appointed time, Kylo Ren is already there. He’s sitting at a table near the window, his eyes trained on the door, and he looks annoyed. Rey’s not exactly known for her punctuality.

He’s going to have to get used to it.

“You’re late,” he grumbles at her as she sits down.

“It’s only two minutes after.”

He gapes at her. “Are you a musician?”

“I think you know that I am.”

“If you’re on time, you’re late. And you were not even on time,” he points out.

Rey laughs. “Since when have you ever seen a concert start on time?” He’s still staring at her, and she can’t help but roll her eyes. “Look, do you want something to drink? It’s on me, since I was _late_.” The last is said with a hard t, and a bit of a cheeky grin.

“Fine.”

“Let me guess your order,” she says, leaning across the table. “Coffee. Black like your soul.” She laughs at her own joke but come on…Kylo Ren is _still_ dressed in all black. She likes this outfit better than his overdone stage outfit at least. Black t-shirt that clings to the muscles of his chest and arms, black jeans that are snug on those thick thighs of his.

Fuck, but he’s an attractive man.

And she hates that. It’s distracting.

“No,” he says. And then he mumbles something completely unintelligible.

“You know, I have pretty good hearing, being a musician and all, but I have _no_ idea what you just said.”

“Iced vanilla latte, with whipped cream.”

She stares at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“But that’s so…”

“So what, Rey? Girly? In this day and age it seems rather offensive to identify drinks as girly or boyish, don’t you think?”

He’s mocking her, she realizes. But there’s nothing unkind about the words, or the slight crinkle at the edges of his eyes.

“Iced vanilla latte, it is,” she says in answer.

“With whipped cream.”

“Of course.” She laughs then and is surprised to hear a light chuckle come from him.

* * *

Their first meeting does not go nearly as well as he had hoped. Not that he’s surprised, really. After the light moment about coffee, things turn serious.

“How many violin and piano pieces do you know?” she asks. She has a repertoire list prepared at least. He supposes having that makes up for her being late to the meeting.

“Not many,” he admits. “I’ve been a solo player for most of my life.”

“Did you not accompany anyone in school?”

He shrugs. “School was a long time ago for me.” It’s been some ten years since he graduated, since he’d last walked the hallowed halls of Julliard. He’d done some accompanying while there, something to make a little extra money. He refused to rely on his parents’ money and fame, so he made his own way, pulling in extra money to help pay for food and music.

“Yeah, I guess it would have been, old man.” For a moment he can’t tell if she’s joking, but then her face breaks out in a grin.

“I think we should program the Respighi,” she says.

“Agreed. That was…” He waves a hand in the air.

She stops then to look up at him. “Yeah. It was.” He doesn’t need to say the words. They both know magic when they hear it, when they feel it. And that’s what it had been. It’s the kind of chemistry with another musician that everyone always dreams of.

“Ok, one down,” he says. “We need at least another piece or two for the first half. And then two to three for the second, depending on length.” He should have known that it all wasn’t going to be easy.

Because that’s about the time it all goes to hell.

They can’t agree on what else to play.

Rey thinks the entire program shouldn’t be all serious drama. She suggests a lighter work, maybe a Bach Violin Sonata or one of Beethoven’s earlier works.

He shoots that down instantly. Kylo Ren does not do _light_.

“The audience needs it. They need those lighter moments.”

“No.”

“Look, have you ever seen a movie where the characters are put through the wringer and then in the end, they all _die_?”

“I don’t really have time to watch movies these days.”

She throws her hands up in the air and he can feel the frustration coming off of her in waves. “Well, Mr. No Movies, it’s not fun for the people watching. Trust me. I was at your concert.”

“If you hate my performances so much, why the fuck did you audition for me?” The words explode out of him and he watches as Rey glances around the coffee shop. They should have met in private somewhere. He should have known it would go this way.

Ben Solo does not play nice with others. He never has. Why would it be any different _now_?

“I suppose ‘I needed a job’ isn’t the right answer?” He almost chokes at that. “No, I didn’t think so. The truth is, I thought we’d make a good team. I thought I could bring a lightness to your program that it’s lacking. I thought…I don’t know.” He watches as she takes a deep breath. “I thought maybe we could better each _other_.”

He's not sure what to say to that, and so he just stares at her for a moment before finally getting out some words. “Snoke won’t allow it.”

“Who cares about Snoke?” Obviously, it wasn’t the answer he wanted.

“He’s my manager,” he tosses back. “And so he’s _your_ manager. Like it or not.”

He watches as she takes a deep breath. “Ok fine. But maybe…I don’t know…just think about it for the next time maybe?”

If there is a next time.

He’s pretty sure Snoke is going to find a way to get rid of her as soon as he possibly can. He nods, though. It’s the least he can do for whatever partnership they’re trying to form here.


	6. First Rehearsal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ben and Rey start rehearsing...

Well, it’s not like she _expected_ it to go her way. In fact, it doesn’t at all. Kylo picks out a solo piece for him to play. That will be the opener of their second half. He’ll bring her on at the end for another angsty, dark work. It will show off their skills, certainly, but it won’t leave the audience on any sort of high note.

 _They don’t expect that, Rey_.

She supposes he’s right about that at least.

“This is the program?” Rose asks, looking at the list of works they’re planning.

“Yeah,” Rey answers. They’ll begin with the Respighi, launching right into the intensity they seem to share as musical partners. He wants to follow that with Shostakovich’s one and only Violin Sonata. After intermission, it’s a series of Kylo’s favorite Rachmaninoff Preludes, each one darker than the last, and then finishing with the absolutely massive Beethoven’s Kreutzer Sonata. That one is a beast, and while Rey knows the work well, it will take some time to work it up into the shape it needs to be. She’d never had a pianist at the school she felt could do the work justice.

Kylo can.

“This is depressing as fuck,” Finn says.

Rey can’t help but grin at that. It’s true. At least the Beethoven ends in a major key, but it’s a difficult work to wrap one’s head around, especially at the end of an intense program. “It’s what Snoke wants,” Rey says, parroting Kylo.

“You’re really going to abide by that creep?” Rose asks.

Rey shrugs. “What choice do I have?”

“You don’t believe that.” Finn says.

And Rey grins. He knows her so well and that always makes her smile. She wonders, sometimes, if she had a blood-related brother, if they would love each other as much as she and Finn do. Not bloody likely, but sometimes she wonders anyway. “Of course I don’t.”

Rose smirks and gives her one of _those_ looks. Rey knows it all too well. “And so what are you going to do about it?”

“Bide my time?”

“And then make a move?” Rose asks.

Rey chokes on her drink.

“Not _that_ kind of move, girl,” Rose says. “Damn, get your mind out of the gutter. You really do want to…”

“Can we not? I mean, not in front of my brother…”

“You _do_ realize I’m not your real brother, right?”

“You might as well be.”

Finn shrugs. “Well, look, if you want to hit that, go for it.”

“You two are so ridiculous.”

But she can’t stop thinking about Kylo, about that tight black t-shirt and the jeans and everything.

“Ridiculous, but right,” Rose says.

“Whatever,” Rey mutters. She knows they are. It’s been a long time for her, a couple years at least, since she’s been in any sort of relationship. And that had been disappointingly short. Rey is not easy to get along with. She’s headstrong and doesn’t always have a good filter on her mouth. She grew up tossed from one place to another, rules always changing, and so she learned to follow her own rules.

Sometimes brutal in her honesty, always a champion of the little guys. She’s grown up well, she thinks, even if she doesn’t always know the right thing to say.

“Well, I won’t be acting on it.”

“No?” Rose asks.

“No. In a way he’s my boss.”

“I thought Snoke was your boss?” Finn asks.

She shakes her head. “He’s his manager…our manager? I guess. But Kylo gets to call the shots.”

“And that’s why he altered the contract.” Finn says.

“Yes. I think at least. He told me he had the final say and that Snoke’s receptionist must have sent over the wrong copy.” She knows there’s no truth to that. Kylo knows. And she knows. Snoke sent that one over on purpose. Thankfully, she had protested it, and so ended up with the contract Kylo wanted.

“That’s what Kylo told you at least,” Rose says. There’s a strange sort of darkness to her voice. Rose is usually sunny, the kind of person you always want in your corner on your worst days. She’d make you feel better about falling into a pit of horse manure. She’s just that sort of person. So to hear the kind of tightness to her voice, see the furrow between her brows, is a little disconcerting.

“What kind of name is that anyway?” Finn asks before Rey can respond. “Kylo Ren?”

Rey shrugs. “I suspect it’s a stage name.”

“And he hasn’t given you his real name?”

“Not so far.” And Rey _does_ wonder about that, about why he continues to hide behind what is clearly a persona.

“God,” Finn says, “I bet his name is something ridiculous.”

“Calvin,” Rose says.

“No…Delbert,” Finn offers up.

“Eugene,” Rey says with a bit of a giggle.

“I dated a guy named Eugene,” Rose says. Finn and Rey both turn to stare at her. “What? I did. He was a nice guy.” The last is said with a shrug.

“Barney!” Finn shouts.

“Like the dinosaur?” Rey says with a laugh. “Maybe he played Barney in a past life.”

“I know,” Rose says, with a grin. “Offer him a hug from me to you. See if there’s any reaction.”

“You’re the worst,” Rey says, shoving the two of them. “The absolute worst. You all need to just go home.”

“You love us,” Finn says.

“Of course she does. Do you love me too?” Rose asks and dissolves into another fit of giggles. “Can you imagine him dressed as a purple dinosaur. Oh _God_.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Rey tries for annoyed. She’s not succeeding though, because she can’t get the image out of her mind. If she thinks about that during their rehearsals she’s going to be in such serious trouble. The last thing she wants to do is lose this job. And she _knows_ that Snoke is just chomping at the bit to find a reason to kick her to the curb. She well imagines he’s the type to tell her she’ll never work in that town again.

 _Geez, Rey, you’ve cast him as the villain in your little drama and you don’t even know him_.

“Alright,” Rose says. “We’re going. But we want details.”

“No we don’t,” Finn says.

“Not _those_ kinds of details,” Rose says, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, out you go. Have a good evening,” Rey says, pushing the pair out the door.

Finn is already heading toward the door, when Rose doubles back and whispers in her ear. “I really do want those kinds of details.”

“Rose!” Finn shouts.

“Coming dear!” she shouts back. She gives Rey another look. “I mean it. I want them.”

And then they’re both gone, and Rey is left blessedly alone. She has a lot of practicing to do over the next week. They’ve set their first rehearsal for a Monday afternoon, one week from their first meeting. It’s not much time, but he’s made sure to pick out pieces she already knows. He thinks it will be easier that way, if they’re playing works they’re both familiar with already.

Then it’s just a matter of melding their sounds together, of playing off each other. In the future, they’ll tackle something new. She has ideas. She’s sure he does too.

Maybe she’ll even get him to play some of her favorite works. Something light, something fun. She wants to _smile_ on stage.

And she wants to see _him_ smile. He’s far too serious for his own good.

* * *

She walks into the first rehearsal with a bit of trepidation. He’s told her it’s just going to be the two of them. Snoke will come in at the end, watching and offering his ideas. She’s never quite asked Kylo just _who_ Snoke is exactly and how much he knows about music. She’s sure he knows the industry, the likes and dislikes. But she doesn’t dare ask if he, too, is some sort of musician. It’s hard to imagine the gnarled old man playing an instrument. His hands are bent with arthritis and he walks with a strange, uneven gait that speaks to some sort of pain.

But maybe at one point…She’ll have to do research on him. _Know thine enemy_ and all that rot.

“You’re early,” Kylo says when she steps into the auditorium.

“You told me…”

“I know what I told you,” he says, dark eyes serious. “I didn’t think you were listening.”

“I’m not as obtuse as all that,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. She watches as his eyes flit down her body and back up. Is he…checking her out? When she meets his eyes, he’s still staring at her, and there’s not a bit of flirtatiousness about the look.

It's not _contempt_ either.

She’s not sure _what_ it is exactly.

She’s not really ace at reading people and Kylo seems to be the sort to keep any feelings buttoned up tightly. Except when playing. She still remembers the way he watched her as they played the Respighi together.

“Have you been practicing?” is all he says in answer.

“Are you serious?”

“What?”

“I mean…are you fucking serious?”

He blinks once. Twice. Closes his mouth and she can see one eye twitch. “I just…nevermind.”

“I’m a professional, Kylo.” She shakes her head. “Of course I’ve been practicing.”

“Right. You brought your part?’ He swallows hard as soon as the words are out.

She leans toward him and whispers her next words. “And I even brought a pencil. Imagine that!”

He runs one of his too-large hands through his hair and Rey can’t help but watch the way the strands fall messily back into place. “Look, I’m not used to working with anyone, okay?” he finally blurts out.

“Well, that much is obvious, at least.” She narrows her eyes on him. “Why are you doing this, then?”

“It’s good to get outside your comfort zone.” There’s a dull edge to the words.

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

“Why do you…”

“Nothing you’ve done or said so far has told me you’re actually enthusiastic about this whole thing.” In fact, so far he’s been annoyed at her, shot down all of her choices, and generally grumbled his way through their meeting. There had been the flirtatious e-mails that she put a stop to. But other than that, he just seems…put out.

“I want to play with you,” he says.

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment. “You’re right,” he finally manages to get out. “I didn’t want this.”

“Then why…” She trails off. “Snoke wanted this?” At his nod, she shakes her head. “I don’t understand.” Snoke has been so antagonistic with her. How could it possibly be _his_ idea?

He doesn’t answer her unspoken question. Then he finally looks away from her, steps over to the piano. “I thought we’d start by talking through the piece.”

She knows a _stop talking about this_ moment if she’s ever seen it. “Right. Sure thing, boss.” The last is said with a somewhat cheeky smile. Which doesn’t get a smile from him. _Damn_. With a shake of her head, she pulls her music and pencil out of her case and comes to sit next to him on the piano bench.

“What are you doing?”

“What? Did you expect me to stand during this?”

“Well, no, but…there are chairs.” He waves a hand out toward the other side of the stage, where a few chairs are haphazardly placed.

“So there are. But there’s plenty of room for two on the bench.”

He lets out a huff of annoyance. “Fine.”

“Good.”

He scoots a little bit away on the bench and she realizes he’s uncomfortable. _Really_ uncomfortable. He’s half off the bench and leaning slightly away from her.

“I don’t smell, do I?”

His eyes shoot up to hers, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“I mean, clearly you’re offended by me…”

“I’m not offended by you.”

She gets up then. Fuck, but this is not going well. They can’t even seem to sit down to figure out their tempos and style of playing. Instead, they’re fighting about piano benches and pencils.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, getting up. She returns with a chair a moment later, and she’s relieved to see him scoot back on the bench, breathing a sigh of what she can only assume is relief. He still seems a little on edge, and she’s surprised at just how _not_ like his stage persona he is here when they’re alone.

“Alright,” he says. “So the first movement…”

* * *

She’s too close.

Even sitting in the chair, she’s too close.

And too animated.

She’s in love with the music, with this piece. She has definite ideas on how the piece should be played, things she’s hated in past pianists she’s played it with. She talks of tempos and stylistic things with an ease that makes him truly sit up and listen. She knows what she’s talking about, not just from a musical standpoint, but from a theoretical one as well.

Hearing her talk about the modulation and the chord structure. Fuck, she’s glorious.

Smart as a whip and talented. And worse than that ( _better?_ he wonders), her ideas meld with his.

“I know it’s marked dotted quarter equals 88, but I like it at a slightly slower tempo. It brings out the _dolce_ aspect more and gives you something to speed up into in the next section.” It’s marked _movendo_ , an Italian word that means “moving” or “growing.” Here they can speed up, give a bit more to it, push ahead without speeding up too much.

“Good, good,” he murmurs, making note of it. “I like that. Makes it more…”

“Exactly,” she says. “ _More_.”

When he turns to look at her, her eyes are bright and he wants to lean closer, wants to say _Yes, more_ … _like you_. She’s definitely far more than he would have expected. She rises to every challenge he sets for her.

“I like the _Agitato_ just a hair quicker than the tempo indicates,” he tells her, waits for her response. It’s not easy music at the tempo Respighi indicated. It’s even more difficult if pushed a bit.

Her answering smile sends a shot of desire right down to his groin and he _almost_ groans. This is not how Ben reacts to women. They’re usually just _there_ , like men are just _there_. He’s thought, really, for the longest time that he doesn’t even feel any attraction to anyone at all. His desires have always been so muted.

But not with Rey.

He can feel himself half hard already and he has to try to think of anything that will stop it. He honestly doesn’t _know_ how to tame such a part of himself. Sure, he had had the unexpected erection when he was a teenager, but that had been a reaction to nothing, just teenage hormones. It’s been years since he’s felt the sharp tang of desire.

He's not sure he likes it.

Or maybe, if he’s going to be honest with himself, he likes it _too_ much.

“Kylo?”

He glances up to meet her eyes, and he feels his cheeks heat. Fuck.

“Are you listening?”

He nods, almost dumbly. This is not going the way he wants it to. Not at all. He’s supposed to be Kylo Ren. Suave, in control, wanted by women anywhere.

Really, he’s just Ben Solo. The last date he’d been on had been in college. It had been a disaster. And anything else? Well, no. He’s not done such things, didn’t even realize he _wanted_ to.

Fuck, imagine if she found out he was still a virgin?

What 32-year-old in this day and age has never gotten his damned dick wet before? Just him, he suspects. He tries to shove down the embarrassment, the bile rising in his throat at the thought. She’d never want _him_ , even if she might be the only woman on earth he’s found himself attracted to.

It figures.

“Yes, sorry. The last movement. I think we nailed that one down pretty well at your audition.”

The smile on her face almost makes him groan aloud and when she puts a hand on his thigh, he nearly jumps out of his skin. It takes everything in him to push that down, to act normal. It’s normal, right? That a woman should touch him in such a way. “We did, didn’t we?”

He nods.

“I still can’t believe that was the first time we performed together,” she muses.

“Sometimes it’s just perfect…right from the beginning.” Not that it ever has been for him before.

Her hand doesn’t move from his thigh, and he’s almost sure he feels her squeeze his leg a bit. He almost chokes.

“Sometimes it is,” she confirms. “Do you think we can keep that kind of magic up? At the concert, I mean?” She bites her lip as she asks the question, and he wants to lean closer, suck on that lower lip of hers.

Fuck.

Why can’t he control himself?

“Yes,” he says, the word coming out a little huskier than his usual voice. Fuck. He hopes she doesn’t notice and so he clears his throat, goes on quickly. “Yes, I think we can. We have to. That’s part of the whole game.” He turns to her then and her hand slides off his thigh. He’s not sure if he’s relieved at the end of the contact or if he wishes she’d move it further up, cup him.

 _Think of Snoke,_ he tells himself. Anything to tamp down on this desire. She doesn’t need to see it. She didn’t ask for this, after all, didn’t ask for him to _want_ her in such a way.

“Good. I think…Kylo, can I just say this?” Her voice is small.

He nods.

“I think this is going to be a good partnership. I know your manager doesn’t want me…”

He makes a scoffing noise. He’s still not even sure what Snoke _does_ want. He only knows Rey isn’t it. He suspects he wanted someone simplistic, some woman he could force into the mold he’d been envisioning for her. Pretty and vapid, she could hold a violin, be featured on the posters, and probably talked up as Kylo Ren’s latest paramour.

It's not what _Ben_ wants, but when did that ever matter to Snoke? The old man is a tour-de-force all his own. _Money talks, Kylo Ren_ , he’s told him. And Snoke has plenty of it to throw around. He’s been throwing it at Ben, at investors in the Kylo Ren name. He’s produced his albums, paid for principle photography on it.

Snoke had sneered at Ben’s talk of doing an album with Rey, but Ben already knows he’s going to do one. And he never in a million years thought he’d _want_ to perform with someone, much less record with them.

He’s turned down any number of people looking to bring him into projects.

Or…Snoke has, he supposes. But he’s been convinced for ages that he’s a solo performer and that’s the way he likes it. Disconnected from the world, just him and the piano. It’s what he’s preferred.

Until now.

Now he wants Rey.

As a partner on stage.

As a partner on recordings.

As _everything_.

And frankly, the strength of that feeling scares the fuck out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all your amazing comments! I'm sorry I've been so remiss in responding to everyone. I've been working hard on fics for the charity anthology and the Reylo Fanfic Anthology exchange. And still trying to get some written on this fic as well.
> 
> Plus PLOT BUNNIES GALORE!


	7. Rehearsal

They delve into rehearsals with an intensity she’s never quite felt before. Oh, there have been tense moments in the past. Her senior recital was full of panicked rehearsals and the occasional argument over how things were going. She was on edge the whole time.

But this?

This is different.

Kylo know exactly what he wants and as they run through each piece of music, he is quick to cut them off, to show her what he wants.

“Stop,” he says, and it takes her a moment to realize he’s spoken. Only when she loses the piano beneath her melody does she realize he’s stopped playing and her own playing grinds to a halt.

“What now?” she mutters.

“You’re rushing it.”

“It’s supposed to speed up. _Movendo_ ,” she points out.

“Speeding up, yes, but you’re moving too quickly through it. It’s becoming a mish-mash of unclear rhythms.”

“That’s not…”

“It _is_ true,” he says, his voice sharp. “Come over here, listen.” When she doesn’t move right away, he waves a hand toward the piano.

She finally relents stepping closer to him, violin still held in one hand. She sets the bow down on the piano as she leans over his shoulder.

“You see this passage?” he says, one long finger coming up to trace one of the lines of music. “Our parts are interwoven. Neither has the melody _or_ the harmony. They need to fit together perfectly.”

He plays through the section slowly on the piano, leaving out the less important parts to make sure he gets the violin part in there. Then he plays through it again, accenting the lines that work together. “See? If you speed up too fast, if you rush that part, it’s not going to fit together right. It needs to _move_ , but together. It’s a give and take, Rey. That’s what all of this is.”

His eyes are intense, almost black, as he watches her. There’s a set to his jaw, color high up on his cheeks.

She almost asks what he’s willing to give, when he turns away from her. “You understand,” he says, voice strangely flat. “I know that you do.”

She does, of course. She knows the piece. And she knows he’s right. “I do,” she finally says.

“Good, now let’s do that section… _slowly_. I want to see how we fit together.”

She almost chokes at that.

There’s certainly a part of her that wonders just that. When she manages to sneak a glance at Kylo, he looks just as disconcerted by the unintentional innuendo as she is.

He clears his throat. “I mean...musically. How we first together _musically_.”

“I knew what you meant,” she responds with.

And he’s still looking at her, his eyes unreadable and his cheeks red. He runs a hand through his unruly black hair, and she can see that the tips of his ears are red as well. _Well, that’s interesting_.

“Well, then…here we go?”

“Right.” She puts the violin to her chin, and nods at him.

He starts the section at about half the speed they were playing before. Rey closes her eyes, draws the bow across the violin, punctuating each note as it fits into the shared melody.

She can _feel_ how it all fits together this time.

When they get to the end, she opens her eyes and looks to him. He nods. “Again.”

They repeat the section.

And then repeat it again, at a faster speed.

“Back to the _a tempo_ at 242,” he says, flipping back a few pages. “We’ll get into it. This time I want to push the tempo a bit. Just a little. But let it drive from the bass, my left hand needs to lead.”

“And then your right and my violin follow,” she finishes for him.

“Exactly.” His mouth _almost_ forms into a smile and she’s waiting, a little breathless really, to see that look grace his face. Only one side of his generous mouth quirks up a bit and then he’s bringing them in together with a nod of his head and a gesture from one hand.

This time it all feels _right_.

When they hit the section, she hangs back, lets him drive them forward. Here he takes the lead, and she lets him, happily relinquishing it to meld her sound into his.

It _works_.

“Yes!” he says as they hit the next section, full of quadruple stops and rolled chords. She loves it, the intense give and take, back and forth. She turns then, to watch him, her eyes on his, as they crash through to the ending.

When they cut off, they’re both breathing hard.

“That was…” she starts to say.

“Perfect,” he finishes for her.

And she’s all too aware of how her chest is heaving, how she can’t quite manage to catch her breath. She’s all too aware of the dark look in his eyes. And then he shivers, just slightly, and licks his lips.

And all she wants to do is throw herself across the piano bench and kiss those amazing lips of his and just _where_ the fuck is all of this coming from anyway? She’s taking a step toward him when she hears the sound of someone clapping off in the wings.

Her back tenses and she grips the neck of the violin hard as Snoke slithers out from the wings.

“Oh, bravo,” he says, and she’s sure there’s no _actual_ applause behind the dry words. “It seems you aren’t _quite_ the wilting flower you appeared to be when I first met you.”

“I told you…”

Snoke waves a thin hand in the air. “Yes, of course you did. Now, I want to hear the Beethoven.”

“That one’s nowhere near ready yet,” Kylo points out.

In all honesty, they really haven’t even begun to tackle the monster of a work. They’ve talked through it, discussed the recordings they like and the ones they don’t. She knows he’s practicing it as hard as she is. But separately, still. They’ve yet to bring their parts together and that was done at Rey’s request.

She’s still surprised Kylo abided by it, but he agreed that starting with something a little less… _intense_ , she supposes is the correct word, was in their best interest. They can get those works out of the way before focusing on the deep intricacies of Beethoven’s penultimate violin sonata.

Beethoven’s final years were littered with pieces that the critics of his time didn’t quite understand. The Kreutzer was received well, but the violinist it was dedicated to hated it. And others found it incomprehensible.

It’s one of the most difficult works in the violin literature.

You don’t just play it willy-nilly.

You _certainly_ don’t play it if you haven’t rehearsed it.

“That’s all well and good, boy. But I want to hear your progress. Hop to it!”

Rey gives Kylo a dark look. He can’t possibly mean to follow Snoke’s orders. Surely, he’ll tell him no, they’re not ready to play through it. There’s so much to discuss and rehearse.

But no, Kylo watches Snoke for a moment longer and then returns to the piano. “Beethoven it is,” he mutters.

“Most excellent,” Snoke says. And then he retreats. It takes some time for his shuffling steps to take him to the edge of the stage and down the steps. And for one, tiny little moment, Rey wishes he’d trip and fall, bang that scarred bald head of his against something. The _want_ of such a thing is so strong, that she can almost see it. And it scares her.

It’s not like she dreams of injuring or murdering people.

It’s just that Snoke…

She takes a step toward Kylo. “You can’t be serious,” she hisses at him.

“What Snoke wants, Snoke gets.”

“We haven’t even played through it once.”

Kylo shrugs and repeats himself. Rey is fairly sure that Snoke has really beaten that into him. Give Snoke what he wants, and you’ll be happy.

But he’s not.

Any fool can see that. Kylo’s entire body is tense, hands balled into fists for a moment before he places them back on the keyboard. There’s a furrow between his brows and his lips are drawn into a flat line. “Kylo,” she says, the word a soft whisper. “Let’s at least talk our way through it first?”

“No!” he shouts. “We play the Beethoven. _Now_.”

With a heavy sigh, she steps to the front of the stage.

And it goes about as well as the thought it might. They’re not _terrible_. But there are moments where they have clear disagreements over the tempo, over the style. There are moments where they’re not quite as in sync as they were playing the Respighi.

It doesn’t help that Snoke is sitting out in the auditorium, leaning forward and watching them like a weasel stalking its prey. He’ll snuff them out, if given half the chance, stomp her into the ground and step right over her. It makes her nervous. And once she even stumbles over a passage. Another time her bow slips a bit.

She can see Ben grimace with each one and hopes this isn’t the excuse Snoke needs to let her go.

When they finish, Snoke stands and approaches the stage. “Well, that needs some work.”

He starts to walk off, but then turns back for just a moment. “Kylo Ren, I would like to see you after rehearsal. In my office.” And then he shuffles off.

She and Kylo both watch him as he makes his slow way to the door.

And then it shuts behind him with a _klang_.

And she hears Kylo curse.

“What on earth was that?” Rey asks.

He shrugs. “Snoke at his best.” He sounds bitter about it, and she realizes that’s how he _always_ sounds about Snoke. She wants to ask him why he stays with him, why he doesn’t find a manager who’s better suited to him, one who, quite frankly, isn’t a creepy asshole.

But what does she know? Maybe he can’t find anyone else. Maybe Snoke was his last resort.

“If that’s his best, I’d hate to see his worst.”

Kylo says nothing for a moment and then finally shrugs. “Shall we rehearse some more?”

“Yeah, sure. Clearly we need to.”

She pulls up a chair again, alongside the piano bench. She won’t make the same mistake again, sitting too close to him. But they need to talk their way through the piece and come to an agreement on what to play.

Kylo is still staring at where Snoke left, and Rey reaches out a hand to touch his forearm gently. “Kylo?”

He shakes himself, as if he’s coming to from some abject nightmare. “I’m fine. Let’s get to it.”

* * *

The rest of the rehearsal went, well, it went, he supposes. It went okay. They were able to talk their way through the Kreutzer Sonata, and their next performance of it was, if not perfect, at least adequate.

They communicate well, but they’re not _mind-readers_. They’re not connected by some cosmic force that binds their thoughts together, not some sort of mind-melded Vulcans or Force-bonded Jedi or anything. And so he knows that it’s going to take a few more rehearsals for it to seem less raw, more polished.

Rey has packed up her violin and Kylo walks her to the door of the auditorium. She assures him she’ll make it home safe, and he doesn’t know why he does it, but he passes her his cell number, tells her to text him when she’s home.

He cares.

And that’s perhaps even more frightening than going to meet Snoke, which he has to do now. He knows it’s not good. It never is. Snoke is a wily bastard and he’ll do whatever he can to get under Ben’s skin. Especially if he feels he’s not doing things _his_ way.

He’s never, in the last six years since signing on with Snoke, quite figured out where Snoke came from, what he knows. Snoke is a mystery to everyone but Antoine Snoke. Though he sometimes thinks his personal assistant, Hux, knows more than he’s telling.

“Ah yes, _Ren_. Mr. Snoke will see you now,” Hux says almost as soon as Ben steps into Snoke’s office area. The man looks inordinately pleased with himself. He knows that Ben has done _something_ wrong and it doesn’t even matter what it is. The man is a complete tool. Sometimes Ben isn’t even sure if that English accent of his is real or not.

But all Ben does, as he usually does, is nod at the little bastard and step past him to Snoke’s office.

“Kylo Ren, please have a seat.”

He’s being infallibly polite. Never a good sign. “You wanted to see me?”

“That wasn’t the best performance I’ve seen from you,” Snoke says, a bit of annoyance laced into the words.

“We hadn’t played through it yet…” Ben starts to say.

“Do you think I _care_?” Snoke responds with. “You must have mistaken me for some manager who will handhold you through this entire process. You _failed_ , boy. You stopped impressing the critics. And so here we are, playing with a mere child just out of university.”

“She’s not a child,” Ben shoots back and immediately wishes he could take the words back. Fucking Snoke. He always backs him into a corner and he always falls for it.

“Well, then, it seems Kylo Ren _does_ want this girl for more than just her music.”

“That’s a lie,” he hisses at him. Kylo knows it isn’t. He knows there’s more there than that. But it’s not like he plans on acting on it. He can’t. He _won’t_. “Even you must recognize her talent. With me, she can _be_ something.”

“Is that why you altered the contract?”

“That’s what we had agreed on.”

Snoke shrugs. “I hadn’t agreed to any of it. I sent her the contract I felt was fair.”

“Yeah well, she’s smarter than you think she is. She actually read the entire thing.”

Snoke just smirks.

And Ben has that sinking feeling, the same one he gets every time Snoke thinks he has the upper hand. In truth, he usually _does_. It’s something that grates on his nerves more and more. He wishes he could get away, could find some way to venture out on his own.

_Or with Rey_ …

“Look, boy, I don’t care if you fuck her. What you do in the privacy of your own bedroom is not of my concern. I want to hear none of it.”

Ben tries to come up with something to say, something to protest this, but his mind is drawing a blank.

“You fail at this, and you’re _done_. Snoke Enterprises will yank all support from you. Your recordings will go into the dustbin. Your contract will be torn to shreds.”

“It’s good for another year.”

Snoke laughs, a great big wheezing thing. Ben flinches. “You think that matters?” Snoke stands then, coming around the desk and stepping closer to Ben with each word. “You think there aren’t loopholes built in, loopholes that _you_ in your desperation to be free of your parents and your uncle never noticed? You think I won’t have a team of lawyers pore over it and dig out a way to let you go with _nothing_?”

He leans down close to Ben, close enough that he can feel the warmth of his somewhat fetid breath against his face.

“Do you have nothing to say, boy?”

Ben won’t even look at him.

“If you fail. If _she_ fails, I’m done with you both. Neither of you will play music in public again.”

This isn’t Rey’s fault. She hasn’t asked for any of this, hadn’t realized what kind of person Snoke is, what kind of hell he’d gotten her mixed up in. He should have let her go, given the job to someone he didn’t care about, given it someone who would stand on stage, play a few simple pieces, and look pretty. It’s what Snoke wanted. Attract the masses through sex appeal.

Ben won’t have it.

He can’t.

He pushes up from the chair. Snoke doesn’t jump back, of course he doesn’t. “I won’t have you ruin her,” Ben says as he leans toward him. Snoke is tall, but Ben still has a few inches on him. And he has the strength that Snoke’s frail form lacks. He looms over him with a snarl on his face.

And then he’s flat on his back, the room spinning.

“Don’t threaten me, boy,” Snoke says as he comes to stand over him. He’s carrying something…Ben can’t seem to focus on it. There’s an intense pain in his head and he can feel blood dripping down the side of his face.

“What?”

“Get up, you mewling child,” Snoke snarls.

Ben barely manages to crawl to his knees. The room sways around him as he gets back to his feet. He grips the edge of the desk hard and squints at Snoke. He can just barely make out the heavy rod that he’s holding in his hand.

“Don’t make me do it again,” Snoke says, and his voice sounds strangely conversational. “I don’t like hurting the merchandise.”

Ben sinks into one of the chairs as Snoke steps past him, setting the rod on the desk in front of him. “Hux!” Snoke calls out the door. “Please do call 911. It seems there’s been an…accident.”

Ben can see Hux ducking his head through the door. Or maybe he’s seeing a few Huxes. Terrible thing, that…multiple Huxes.

“Yes, I see what there has been. What happened?”

Snoke glances back at Ben and he can see that he looks almost sympathetic. It’s an act. He knows it’s an act, and he feels a shiver work his way down his spine. “He got overwrought. _Again_. And he fell.”

“A shame,” Hux says, and then disappears.

“Try anything again, Kylo Ren, and I will end you.”

He has no doubt of his threat.

Ben has to keep himself from retching. Snoke won’t like that, and so he chokes down the bile as he leans back in the chair. The room goes dark a moment later, blessedly dark.

* * *

It’s late when Rey hears her phone ping her. If she’s going to be honest, she’s been worried about Kylo ever since Snoke demanded he go see him. Their rehearsal hadn’t been exactly _bad_ , but neither had the last bit been particularly good. It wasn’t on Kylo, truly. It wasn’t on _anyone_. They hadn’t had a chance to rehearse the piece and then there’s Snoke, demanding a complete run-through of it.

It wasn’t a complete disaster. They’d manage to connect in some ways, but it was certainly unpolished.

And she’d never heard from him after sending him a quick text saying she was home safe.

She pulls open her laptop and finds a message not from _Kylo_ , but from one Armitage Hux. Snoke’s personal assistant, she remembers, a moment before she opens the message.

An “accident”…she feels her heart drop into her stomach. There’s something that rings so false about that.

She almost throws her laptop in annoyance before her cooler side prevails. She thinks of Kylo, of his strength and stamina. She thinks of the way Snoke had watched them at rehearsal, the dark look in Kylo’s eyes as Snoke told him to come meet him after.

She has no reason to believe he’d harm his greatest star.

But it’s too much of a coincidence that he’d been hurt sometime the same evening after Snoke went after them during rehearsal.

She doesn’t like this.

She doesn’t like this _one bit_.


	8. Finding Kylo

She has no idea where to start.

Calling hospitals, she supposes. Does Kylo Ren have any next of kin? Any friends? He seems so alone every time she sees him. But surely there must be someone, a friend, a family member.

She doesn’t even know his real name. Or at least, she doesn’t think she does. No one would name their child Kylo, right? She’s still pretty sure it has to be some sort of stage name. If she calls various hospitals and asks for Kylo Ren will they even know who he is? _Oh fuck_.

So she does the only thing she can think to do.

She calls Finn.

His voice is beyond groggy when he answers. “This better be an emergency, Rey,” he mutters. “And by emergency I don’t mean you ran out of peanut butter and you have a test to study for.”

“We graduated, Finn.”

“Oh yeah, right…”

“It’s an emergency,” she says, her voice slightly breathless.

Finn says nothing for a moment, and she’s about to speak again, when he says, “We’re on our way over.”

Maybe she should have gone to Skywalker, but this is _her_ thing to handle, _her_ thing to worry about. She’s sure he’s sound asleep in whatever room of the house he calls home. She can’t imagine dragging the head of their school out in the middle of the night on some crazy wild goose chase to find her lost partner of only a handful of weeks.

_Why do you care so much, Rey?_

She’s been asking herself that a lot lately.

It goes beyond just mere physical attraction. Oh, there’s that. In spades, even. The things she thinks about in the dark of night aren’t things she’d want to speak aloud. But there’s something about him, a kind of loneliness that calls to her. Like he understands her soul, understands what she’s gone through. She’s never talked of it, her scrappy early years going from home to home. But it informs everything she does, and she feels like Kylo would _get_ it. If she ever dared tell him the truth about herself.

Finn and Rose are at the door in record time.

“Did you guys run red lights?” Rey asks as she opens the door.

“What’s going on?” Finn says as soon as they enter the kitchen. Rey flicks on a light and sits down.

“It’s Kylo Ren…”

“You did _not_ just call us here to talk about your latest crush,” Finn says. Rose punches him in the arm, and he lets out a soft _oof_.

“He’s in the hospital.”

“Oh my God, Rey,” Rose says, reaching out to grasp her hand. “Is he okay? Are _you_? What happened?”

Rey shakes her head. “I don’t know.” She pulls out her laptop and shows the messages from Hux to Finn and Rose.

“Well, that’s not suspicious or anything,” Finn says.

“Exactly. When I left him…I don’t know. Snoke wanted to meet with him and I _swear_ , Kylo looked like he was going off to the gallows.”

“You think Snoke did this,” Rose says.

“Maybe. I…”

Finn interrupts her, his eyes wide. “You do. How? Why? I thought Kylo Ren was his prize?”

“He is…he was…I don’t know. I think things are _bad_ there. I need to find him.”

“Snoke?” Finn asks.

“No. Kylo. But I have no idea what hospital…where he might be. I don’t even know what’s wrong. Just… ‘there was an accident…’ That’s all Hux would give me.”

Rose reaches out, wraps an arm around her shoulder. “Take a deep breath, sweetie.” Rey does as she asks, though she doesn’t feel much better. “We’ll find him.” Rey takes another deep breath as Rose goes into what she can only describe as _Rose_ mode. “Finn,” she says turning to her boyfriend. “Get me a list of area hospitals. Whatever is closest to Snoke Enterprises. We’ll start making phone calls.”

“Are you serious?” Rey asks.

“Deadly,” Rose says, and then grins.

“Hey,” Finn says, leaning toward her. “You’re worried about him. So we are too.”

Rey nods, and grabs her laptop to start looking for hospitals in their area. Why _is_ she so worried? It’s not like she really knows him. But there’s _something_ there. She can’t quite define it, and knowing he’s hurt somewhere, that Snoke could have done it? It just terrifies her.

* * *

“Hello, yes, I’ll hold,” Rose says.

It’s the fourth hospital they’ve called.

One refused to give them information unless they could come in with ID that showed who they were.

Two others were at least nice enough to let them know he wasn’t there. Rey doesn’t know if Rose got ahold of someone who was just new, or if their security was laxer than at other locations.

“Yes, Kylo Ren…yes I’m _aware_ that’s his stage name…who am I?” Rose sounds haughty and Rey has to clamp her hand over Finn’s mouth to stop him from laughing. “I’m the personal assistant to Regan Kenobi…who’s _that_? Don’t you follow the tabloids, woman?”

“There’s nothing in the tabloids,” Rey whispers.

“She’s the new star of his show. And I can assure you she will be _very_ put out if she can’t come visit her performing partner and ascertain his physical condition…they have a _contract_.” Rose takes the phone away from her mouth and whispers. “It’s this one. I just _know_ it.”

“Yes, sorry, I didn’t catch that? Thank you.” She hangs up the phone and makes a triumphant fist in the air. “Got it! He’s at Strong Memorial Hospital. They wouldn’t tell me what room, but they said if you show up and can produce identification, they’ll let you in to see him.”

Rey takes a deep breath. “Thank God. Did they say anything else?”

Rose shakes her head. “Confidentiality and all that.”

“Right.”

“Come on then,” Rose says. “We’ll drive you there.”

“Thanks,” Rey says. She really has the best of friends. Only Finn and Rose would show up in the middle of the damned night and scour the entire city for someone she barely even knows.

“We’ve got your back, girl. Always.” Rose says. She nods, and then they’re off.

* * *

Ben’s eyes open. The world is strangely bright, and as soon as his eyes crack open just a bit, the entire room spins.

He tries to sit up.

The room spins even harder.

“Whoa there,” comes a voice he doesn’t recognize.

He tries to focus.

“Where am I?”

“It seems you had a bit of an accident,” comes the voice again, and this time he manages to get his eyes open enough to see the scrubs she’s wearing, some ridiculously bright happy pattern. A nurse. He cringes. She laughs. “I know. They pulled me off the kids’ ward today. Sorry about the ridiculous scrubs.”

“An accident,” he murmurs.

He remembers rehearsing with Rey.

He remembers needing to see Snoke about something.

And then he was here.

The nurse steps closer to him and he looks up to see her standing over him with a slight frown on her face. “Memory lapses can be common with this sort of thing.” She reaches out to grasp his arm and Ben pulls away. “Mr. Solo, you need to have your blood pressure taken.”

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

“You’ve had a nasty fall,” the nurse says in answer. He tries to focus on her nametag, but his eyes seem to cross as he stares at it, and the letters swim oddly.

“I don’t remember a fall,” he says, as he relents to letting her poke and prod at him.

“Like I said, memory lapses are common. According to the gentlemen who were with you when it happened, you slipped on something on the stairs heading out of the building and hit your head pretty hard.”

Ben puts his hand to his head and feels the bandage there. He glances down at his hands and they seem ok. He flexes the fingers, plays through a few imaginary scales on his thigh.

The nurse is watching him and smiles. “They did tell me you’re a pianist.”

He makes a small scoffing noise at that. “Yes, one might say that.”

“There was no further damage, if that makes you feel better.”

“Just my head?”

She nods.

“I fell down the stairs and the only thing I hurt was my head?” There’s something off about that, but he can’t seem to get his mind to wrap around it. Ben is not usually clumsy. He’s not exactly _graceful_. One would never look at the way he moves, heavy-footed and determined, and think he should be on the dance floor. But he’s not the type of person to just fall down the stairs. _No other injuries. Hands are fine._

“Strange, isn’t it, how these things happen.” The nurse pats him on the shoulder. “All set for now Mr. Solo. The doctor will be in to see you later.”

“How long do I have to stay here?”

“Just the night, sir. They want to keep you for observation.”

He thinks about telling her to fuck off, get up, leave. He’s an adult. He can leave the hospital if he damn well wants to. But as soon as he tries to sit up, the room spins.

“Mr. Solo, _please_ just lay down. The best thing you can do for a concussion is rest. So please just… _rest_. If you need anything else, we can assist you.” With that, she’s gone from the room and Ben is left alone to contemplate just what the fuck exactly is going on here.

* * *

“Do you want us to come with you?” Rose asks as Rey starts to get out of the car.

Rey shakes her head. “It’s fine. I can take an Uber back.”

“No,” Finn says. “Text me when you need a ride. We’ll come pick you up.”

They’re really just such a good people. Rey still has no idea how she’s lucked out finding friends like these two. Even Poe, with all his trumpet player arrogance, is a good guy. She’s somehow managed to make friends for life, and that’s something she won’t _ever_ take advantage of. She’s surrounded by people who love her. _Family_ for the girl who never had one.

“Thanks, Finn,” she says, reaching out to squeeze his upper arm. There can’t possibly be a better brother in the world, she’s sure of it.

When she steps into the hospital, she tries to put on as confident an air as she can. She’s still not sure they’ll _really_ let her in, but he’s not in the ICU or anything, so it’s not restricted to family only. She walks up to the small security desk just beyond the entrance. The bored security guard doesn’t even notice her at first, finally looking up at her and sitting up straighter in his seat.

“You’re here to see…” His voice trails off.

“Kylo Ren,” she says.

The guard studies her for a moment. “No fans allowed,” he finally says, sitting back and pulling out his phone again.

“I’m not a fan.”

“Well, you sure ain’t his mama,” the guard says.

Rey rolls her eyes. “I’m his performing partner,” she says, and produces her identification for him. “Rey Kenobi. He and I had a rehearsal before…whatever happened, happened.” She still has no idea what exactly is going on, but there’s a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach that just won’t go away. And she’s sure it won’t settle until she sees Kylo, makes sure he’s actually okay.

The guard takes her ID and glances down at the paperwork in front of him. “Alright, you’re on the list.”

“There’s a _list_? Just how many people have come to see him?”

The guard shrugs. “You’re the first.”

And something about that makes her sad. He seems so terribly lonely at times, and she wonders what has made him that way. She was, once long ago, stuck at a foster home with other kids just as miserable as herself, shoved from place to place where she found it impossible to make new friends. Only now, surrounded with her dear friends who care so _deeply_ has she started to feel less alone.

But there are still times.

The guard gives her a temporary visitor’s badge and directs her to a room on the third floor. Then he waves her off, and she’s on her own.

It’s a bit of a maze to find the elevators and she gets a little lost on the floor trying to find the right room.

And then she’s standing outside the room and she’s not sure if she should go in. Should she just walk in? Knock? They’ve told her it’s a private room, so what if he’s standing in it bare-assed for all the world to say.

“Do you need something, miss?” one of the nurses says, an older woman dressed in an outrageously bright scrub top.

Rey turns to stare at her. “I…”

“Are you here to see Mr. Solo?”

“Mr…” She turns to look back at the room. Sure enough, the words “B. Solo” are written on the card next to the door. She looks down at her badge. Room 321. She looks up at the room. It’s the right room.

Wrong person.

Well, crap.

“No,” she says. “I was told Kylo Ren was in this room.” She starts to turn away, when the nurse reaches out a hand and touches her on the shoulder.

“They’re one and the same, love.” She’s giving Rey an odd look. Maybe because Rey feels a little bit like she’s swallowed something distasteful. “Go on,” she says. “I’m sure he’d love to see a pretty young thing like yourself. Better than seeing me. Frankly, he’s a little bit grumpy. That might be the concussion talking…”

And at this Rey _does_ laugh a little at that. “No, that’s just him.” She stares at the name again, wondering for a moment why it seems so familiar. “I guess I’ll just go in then?”

“Go on, love. He’s awake. He’s just eating some of the brilliant fare the hospital has on offer.”

Rey wonders if she should have brought him something, but she has _no_ idea what he likes outside of that ridiculously sweet iced latte he drank at their first meeting. She doesn’t know if caffeine is even appropriate, all things considered.

Finally, she nods at the nurse, and steps into the room. When she comes around the corner, she just stops. It’s strange, seeing him laying there in the bed. He’s not all in black, dressed instead in one of the standard hospital gowns, blanket pulled up to his waist, as he pokes at whatever they call food. There’s a bandage around one side of his head, but otherwise he seems…normal, if not a bit diminished.

He doesn’t notice her at first, and so she finally clears her throat.

His head comes up fast and she watches as he closes his eyes, a grimace going across his features for a moment before it clears and he opens his eyes again to focus on her. “Rey?”

She blinks, and she’s about to respond when he pushes the food tray away.

“Oh thank _God_ ,” he mutters. “Come here.”

She takes a couple steps closer.

“ _Rey_ ,” he says.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I fell.”

“You…fell? That’s it? Hux wouldn’t tell me anything, just that there’d been ‘an accident’ and there were no rehearsals until further notice.”

Kylo makes a huffing noise. “At least he told you, I guess.”

“How…”

“Nevermind that. Come _here_.” He beckons with his hand and she does as he asks, coming to stand at his bedside. “Good,” he says. “Now here, help me up.”

“Shouldn’t the nurse…”

“That harridan? She won’t leave me alone. Oh, sure she _offered_. Offered to help me ‘take care of my needs.’ I can take care of those… _needs_ …all on my own. I just need someone to make sure I’m steady. The room’s spinning a little.”

“Are you sure that’s…”

“A good idea?” he finishes for her. “Probably not. But fuck, I need to take a piss. Sorry,” he says quickly. “No filter. My head’s still so fuzzy.”

What exactly _is_ her life coming to anyway?

With a sigh, she offers her arm to him. “Alright, but you’ve got some explaining to do once we’re done with this.”

 _This is ridiculous_.

But she does it anyway. She has no idea what she expected when she came to his room, but _this_ is not it.

“Fine,” he says.

And then he’s pushing himself up from the bed. She leans closer and he wraps an arm around her shoulders. She’s strong, but still, helping his hulking figure to his feet is _not_ an easy task. Rey’s still a good head shorter than him, even in his stocking feet. But somehow, they make it.

He sways once, and Rey puts a hand on his abdomen to steady him.

His rock-hard, really _ripped_ abdomen.

 _Well, fuck_.

He hisses at the contact and she mutters an apology.

“Let’s get this over with,” he mutters. They make slow progress to the bathroom, with him shuffling alongside beside her. He’s unsteady on his feet, almost as if he’s been drugged. She’s never had a concussion before, but she’s heard they aren’t a pretty thing.

When they get to the bathroom door, it feels like she’s run a bit of a marathon. “Do you…”

“No,” he says, cutting her off. “Leave me some dignity.” He pushes away from her then, and steps through the door and she doesn’t _dare_ tell him that the back of his robe is slightly open and _dear God,_ she catches just a glimpse of his ass. His very fine, nicely built ass.

 _Well, fuck_. She almost giggles when she realizes just how often those words go through her head when he’s around.

She can’t help but wonder just what the fuck he does with his life besides practicing piano and, apparently, working out. She’s used to pianists having strong fingers. But Kylo is just plain _strong_. Even weakened from whatever happened to him, he’s probably the strongest man she knows. And it makes her feel just a little oddly weak at the knees.

He's back at the door before she has a chance to think much more on what he’s hiding beneath those robes. As she helps him back to the bed, she tries _very very hard_ to not think of the fact that beneath them, he’s wearing absolutely nothing.

_He’s your musical partner, Rey._

_He’s_ injured _, Rey._

 _Stop thinking with your hormones, Rey_.

“So you want to tell me what happened?” Rey asks.

And he shrugs. “I don’t know. They’re telling me I fell. And I guess I have a bit of amnesia…” His voice trails off.

“You’re not buying it.”

He shrugs again.

“I thought not. I’m not buying it either. Hux was not very forthcoming in his message to me.”

“I’m surprised Hux even bothered with that much.”

Rey glances down at the foot of his bed and there, again, in plain sight at the top of his chart it says “B. Solo.”

They’re silent for a moment, and so she takes a deep breath. “So Kylo? Why does your chart say ‘B. Solo’ on it? Who exactly _is_ ‘B. Solo’?”


	9. Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/thespottedtongue/49596801057)  
> 

He watches as Rey asks the question he _knew_ must be coming. Of course they didn’t put down Kylo Ren on his chart. Of _course_ Rey would notice.

“Why are you here, Rey?” he asks instead of answering her question.

She’s watching him with wide eyes, an unreadable expression on her face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Did they tell you where I was?”

“Did who…”

“Snoke?” He watches as she cringes at the name. “Hux?”

“We tracked you down,” she says, and offers up a shrug. “Me and Rose and Finn”

“Why?” he asked again, and he doesn’t know why he keeps asking it. Why it matters. If he wasn’t feeling so ridiculously vulnerable and embarrassed at having her help him to the fucking bathroom, he’d think this was some sort of fantasy. Okay, that might involve more rose petals and certainly less hospital gowns. He’s pretty sure she got a glimpse of his ass. He could feel the cool air of the hospital room on his bare skin as he staggered his way into the bathroom.

She had the good graces to not mention it at least.

“Why wouldn’t I? I came because I was worried about you. I came because I _care_.”

“No one cares.” He hates the petulant note to the words. But it’s the truth. Surely _someone_ would have notified his next of kin. And yet his mother hasn’t bothered to come see him. His father is no doubt on some tour somewhere. 

Rey is the only one to visit.

Not even Snoke bothered to.

And there’s still _something_ there that is niggling at the back of his brain, something about Snoke that makes him feel a little ill inside.

When he finally looks back up to Rey, there’s a strange, soft look to her face. _Pity_. “I don’t need your pity,” he spits out.

“And you don’t have it,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Who is ‘B. Solo’?”

He snorts. “Would you believe me if I told you it was a fake name so people couldn’t find me here?”

She watches him for a moment. “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” He sighs. He didn’t ever want to reveal who he is, his parentage, the lines he comes from. “ _I_ am ‘B. Solo.’ That’s my real name.”

“B for…”

“Ben,” He makes a little huffing noise. “Somehow doesn’t sound quite so intimidating for stage does it? ‘And now, the next rock star of the piano, _Ben Solo_.’ It’s a pitiful name.”

“It’s a fine name,” Rey says.

And then he just _knows_ the moment she realizes she knows that name. Her face scrunches up as she’s trying to figure it out, and then her eyes widen.

“Wait…You’re Ben Solo? _That_ Ben Solo?”

“Unfortunately,” he mutters, and watches as she collapses into a chair.

* * *

_Ben Solo_.

No wonder Luke fucking Skywalker told her to try out for the job. No wonder he told her he knew she’d get it. Kylo Ren is his fucking _nephew_.

Everyone at Ahch-to University had heard the rumors of the errant nephew of their fine institution’s leader. He’d once been the star pupil, and then he’d just disappeared. Luke wouldn’t speak of him anymore, and so the rumors persisted, spread by those who enjoyed a bit of dark gossip.

“You’re Luke Skywalker’s nephew.”

He cringes at that. “‘Unfortunately’ doesn’t begin to describe _that_.”

“That’s why you hired me.” That’s why Snoke hated her, why Snoke wanted someone, _anyone_ else. He didn’t want someone with ties to Kylo’s…no _Ben’s_ …family.

“What?” Ben asks. Her head shoots up at the sharp word. “No,” he’s saying as she meets his eyes.

“No?”

“How did you even draw that conclusion?”

“Luke told me to audition…”

His eyebrows shoot up. “He did?”

She nods. “And then when I told him I got the job, he was absolutely not surprised. I thought it was because of my…”

“It did. It was all you.” He’s staring at her, his eyes intent. His lips are set in a flat line, brows drawn low.

“Luke didn’t talk to you?”

His hand makes a slashing motion in the air. “I haven’t spoken to my uncle in something like six years. God, maybe longer. I don’t remember the last time I even laid eyes on him. Trust me. He had no influence over my choosing you. If anything, it was negative. I wasn’t even going to consider you.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he echoes. “One of Luke’s prize students coming to play with me? I was torn between laughing and throwing you out on your ear.”

“Snoke would have liked the latter.”

“He would have. I suspect he still would.” She half wonders if there’s some bad blood there too, between Snoke and Luke.

“He hates me.”

He shrugs. “He hates Luke Skywalker. And he hates Ben Solo. He hates anyone that has to do with my ‘other life.’”

“He made you change your name?” It makes sense, really, when she thinks about it. Ben comes from a famous family. His mother is still well known in the opera world, the rare performance she puts on selling out tickets before anyone can even blink. She makes tons and tons of money for the charities she performs for. A few years ago she was named one of the fifty most influential women in the world.

“I wanted to,” Ben assures her. “Kylo Ren was my idea and Snoke agreed it was in my best interest.”

“Of course he did.”

Ben shrugs. “It worked. For a time.”

“Not anymore?”

“Why do you think you’re here?” The words are bitter, and she feels them shoot right through her. “Sorry,” he mutters. “No filter.”

“Maybe it won’t be such a bad thing?”

He stares at her for a moment, starts to say something, and then shakes his head.

“What? Just go ahead and say it.”

“With my no filter concussion mouth? Maybe not such a good thing.” She’s not sure what to think of this version of Kylo Ren or Ben Solo, or whoever he really is.

“Maybe not,” she agrees. But she has to admit she _wonders_. She wants to know what _he_ thinks of this partnership they’re forming, if it’s something he even really wants. She can’t deny that she’s enjoying playing with him, probably far more than she really should. “So a concussion?”

“Yeah. They say I hit my head on _something_ falling down the steps.” He presses his lips together and his eyelid twitches. “They didn’t tell me what.”

“Why would you take the stairs?” Snoke’s office is on the highest floor of Snoke Enterprises. From there he can no doubt oversee what he considers to be his domain.

“Do I look like the kind of person to take the elevator?”

“Fair point. I took the elevator,” she admits.

“Of course you did. Any sane person would.”

She wants to ask what he could have hit his head on in the staircases that lead up to Snoke’s office. There’s just _something_ about it all that rings false somehow. She can’t put her finger on it and it’s just bothering her in ways she can’t quite explain.

“Right. Your hands?”

“Fine. Everything is fine. Except my head.”

And there it is. He fell down the stairs and yet…he’s not hurt. Except for a blow to the head that was hard enough to cause a concussion, and apparently required some number of stitches.

“That seems…”

“I know,” he cuts her off with. “There’s something off about the whole explanation.” He purses his lips.

They fall silent then and Ben finally points at one of the chairs. “What?” she asks.

“Will you sit or something? Your standing is making me irritated.”

She laughs at that. _There_ is the Ben she’s getting to know. Strangely charming in his irritation, a small smile playing about the corner of his lips. “Sorry,” she finally says, and pulls up the chair.

“Are you intending to stay?”

“I don’t have to. But I thought…I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to stay awake for 24 hours after a concussion? Shouldn’t there be someone with you round the clock to make sure you’re not going to, like, _die_ in your sleep or something?”

He continues to watch her, and she’s surprised to see him actually _smile_. She’s not seen that before and his slightly crooked teeth surprise her for some reason. She doesn’t know why. It’s not like, having grown up in the foster system as she did, she’s seen kids with perfect teeth. She was lucky, born with teeth that just naturally fit into her mouth. But plenty of those foster kids never got to see a dentist and had mouths full of misaligned and rotting teeth. It’s a sad fact about being part of the system. Medical care was not always the best.

But Ben grew up with famous parents who surely must have had the money to get him braces.

Well, it’s none of her business really. And Rey isn’t one for butting into…okay, she _is_ , but not this time.

“I won’t die in my sleep.” There’s an amusement behind the words she doesn’t expect.

“Are you _sure_? Because that’s what I’ve heard my entire life.”

“Myth.”

“Common knowledge,” she responds with, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere until you have someone else to watch you. Are your parents coming back?”

“Coming _back_ implies they’ve already been here.”

“Oh! So they’re on their way?”

“No.” And now he sounds _irate_.

“Did no one tell them what happened?”

He’s _glaring_ at her. “Not all of us have parents who care.”

“Are you fucking serious?” she asks, and there’s _her_ complete lack of filter. She’s always had a problem with that. “I don’t _have_ parents.” A furrow forms between his brows as they draw low over his eyes. “Oh, so you don’t know? I assumed you would have read up on me after I auditioned.”

“I don’t care about such things.”

She nods. “I came from the system. You know… _foster_ system. My parents? I have no clue who they were. I only know I was dumped at a hospital in the middle of Jakku, and the kindly nurses got me to CPS. Child Protective Services, you know?”

“I watched Law & Order: SVU,” he says in response. And then has the good graces to cringe at that at least.

“Yeah, well, I lived it.” His eyebrows shoot up. “Not that way. They tried to find my parents. I don’t know if they ever did. I was never up for adoption, just kicked from home to home until I was 18 and aged out.”

“But…”

She holds up a hand. “How did I get so darned proficient at the violin?”

“Something like that,” he mutters.

She nods. “Old Ben Kenobi. He gave me his violin.”

He starts to say something, but then chokes on the words, coughs a couple times. “Kenobi. I assumed that was just a coincidence.”

“Hardly. Old Ben was the best foster home I stayed in.”

And then he drops a complete bomb in her lap. “I’m named after him, you know.” She wants to respond to that but she’s not even sure what to say. Old Ben? His _parents_ knew him? _He_ knew him?

“You…”

“Yup. He mentored my uncle at one point. He’d always hoped he’d take up the violin and he could pass his onto him.”

“My violin,” Rey whispers. Her violin…Ben Kenobi’s…he had wanted it to go to Luke Skywalker. “Instead, my uncle became a pianist, and I guess now it’s _your_ violin.”

“It called to me,” she says quietly. “I was there the first week in his house and I found it, sitting just to the side of the mantle. Ben said he no longer could play, but I felt so _compelled_ to pick it up. Like…there was some sort of connection there.”

“It suits you,” is all Ben says in response.

She nods.

“He never told us he had taken in a foster child.”

Rey’s eyes snap to Ben’s. “I was with him when he died, you know.”

Ben looks sympathetic, a look that seems strangely soft on his rather harsh face. “I’m glad he wasn’t alone.” He looks away from her. “I didn’t know him well, and by the time he had passed on, I hadn’t seen him for some years. But he was a good man. Talented. I suppose he taught you what you know.”

“Most of it. The rest? That was self-study.”

“Impressive.”

“Yeah well, he gave me the bones. I just needed to flesh it out a little.” She’s surprised to see Ben’s cheeks turn a little pink at that. She really has no idea what she said to elicit such a reaction.

“Yeah,” he finally says.

Everything falls quiet then.

She thinks about pulling out her phone. But that would be rude. So instead she sits and stares at her hands, hoping that Ben might find another avenue of conversation. When he doesn’t, she finally glances back up at him to see him staring at her. “What?” she asks.

He blinks. “Nothing. Sorry.” His cheeks redden even further. “Concussion,” he mutters.

She’s not sure it is. She’s not seen that look very often, certainly not directed at her, but she’d almost say it was _attraction_ she was seeing. Eyes wide, pupils were so dilated they were nearly black, mouth parted.

“Right,” she says.

“You really can go.” The words are quiet. “I’m allowed to sleep.”

He _looks_ tired, she realizes. Dark circles beneath his eyes, the bandage still decorating one side of his face. “How long are you in here for?”

“Overnight, I guess? I hope that’s all.”

“Do you…I don’t know…do you need a ride home?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I’m sure Snoke will send someone for me.”

“Okay but if he _doesn’t_ , will you text me? I can come get you.”

He stares at her.

She shifts in her seat.

“Ben?” And then pauses. “Wait…can I call you that?”

“In private,” he concedes. “My audiences have no idea who I am.”

“How is that even possible?”

He makes a huffing noise. “Really good marketing and an excellent team who scoured the internet looking for any pictures of me that linked me to my parents.”

“Wow.”

Another shrug. “Yeah. Well, you know…it made it easier.”

Easier to divorce himself from the entire thing. Easier to lose himself into Kylo Ren. Easier for _Snoke_ , certainly. But she wonders if being brought back into the fold would make him somehow _less_ lonely.

“I guess.” She stands then.

“I’ll text,” he says. The words are so quiet she almost doesn’t hear them at first. “If I need a ride, that is.”

“Good. Where’s your phone?” His brow crinkles a little and she smiles. He’s kind of adorable when he’s stuck in a hospital bed and hurt. Less intimidating, that’s for sure. She’s still trying very _hard_ not to think of that finely sculpted ass she’d caught a brief glimpse of.

“My phone?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes. Your _phone_. I’ll input my number into it. Unless you already have it…” Her voice trails off at that. She supposes he must.

He waves a hand at her. “Hardly. I don’t really text normally.” He holds up his hands then and there’s a small part of her that thrills both to their size and the fact that they’re uninjured. A fall down the stairs? It could have killed him. Or _worse_ for him no doubt, he could have damaged his hands beyond repair, ruined his entire career.

She can’t help but think of his uncle and his prosthetic hand. Good enough to do the basic chores he needed it for, good enough to look _almost_ real. But not something that could enable him to keep playing. It was one of the biggest tragedies in the classical music world recently, Luke Skywalker losing his hand in a car accident.

“Right. I suppose phones must seem awfully small to you.”

He shrugs. “Phone’s in the pocket of my coat.” He points across the room. “Probably easier for you to get it. Go ahead and put your number in. Just…don’t expect anything.”

She shrugs. “I wasn’t. But it’s good to have it just in case.” She grabs the phone out of the pocket of his coat and knocks something else to the floor.

His wallet.

Which flies open, money and cards scattering.

“Fuck. I’ll get it.”

She can hear him say something as she crawls on the ground, gathering up things. “Sorry, this is probably going to be a mess.”

“Just give it all to me,” he says.

She’s picking up something, when she realizes it’s a picture.

Of Ben.

Smiling.

With a dog. A happy mostly black retriever looking dog. Happy and fluffy. Which is exactly _not_ what she would expect out of Ben.

“Ben?” she says as she comes up with the picture. “Who’s this?”

“Fuck,” he says.

“I doubt that’s the dog’s name,” she shoots back with.

“That’s the real Kylo.”

“And Kylo would be?”

“My dog. Clearly. Why else would I have a picture of him in my wallet?” And he sounds half-annoyed, but half…worried.

“Wait a second…your stage name comes from a _dog_?” He looks a bit sheepish at that. “It does. Oh my God, Kylo is a _dog_.”

“Shhh,” he says, waving a hand at her. There’s color high on his cheeks and holy _fuck_ , he is not what she expects at all. He’s…downright nerdy when it comes down to it.

“What does Snoke think of that?”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “He doesn’t know about him.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she says, and she can’t help but smile a bit at it. “ _You’re_ ridiculous. Oh my God, Kylo Ren is a _retriever_.”

“He was a character in a story I wrote first…”

“This just keeps getting better and better,” she says with a laugh. And then something else dawns on her, her eyes widening. “Who’s watching him?”

“That’s what the _fuck_ was about. I don’t know. I didn’t even think…”

“You forgot your dog?”

He puts his hands over his ears. “Fuck, Rey, not so loud.”

“Sorry,” she says, her voice a little softer. “It’s just that your poor dog is home all alone…”

“I know,” he says, and he sounds absolutely miserable. “Fucking concussion.”

“Would Hux have sent someone to take care of him…maybe?”

“Hardly,” Ben says, the word dry and devoid of any humor. “And Hux doesn’t even know I have him. No one at Snoke Enterprises does. I have a dog sitter who watches him when I’m on tour, but he knows I’m not out right now.”

“So no one,” she says, looking down at the photo. “He has no one?”

“At the moment, no.” And he looks so contrite. “I need to get out of here.”

“You can’t.” And then she just blurts the next words out without even thinking. “I can take care of him.”

“Seriously?” He’s staring at her again, mouth half open, and she’s feeling like she missed _something_.

“Yes? Seriously.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he mutters. “Keys are in the inner pocket.”

She fishes them out of his coat and at least this time nothing else falls out. When she turns back to him, he’s frantically writing stuff on a notepad.

“Here’s my address,” he says, handing her the first sheet.

He’s still writing furiously.

“I have GPS. I can find my own way there.”

He looks up at her with a huff. “I know that. I’m writing down instructions.”

“For?”

He glares at her. “For _Kylo_? You need to know what he’s fed, where his leashes are. Fuck, where I keep the toy box and the balls. He likes the dog park. There’s a bunch of dogs there he likes to play with. He loves to chase his ball, but he can be protective of it, so don’t take it to the dog park. He’s fed twice a day. One cup in the morning and in the afternoon. Fuck, he’s probably missed one of his meals today. Just feed him two cups. He’ll think Christmas came.”

“Wow,” she says.

“What?” he asks, looking back up at her.

“I just didn’t quite expect you to be this…um…devoted, to your dog?”

“He’s all I have,” he says, and there’s such a seriousness to that, such a sadness, that she feels her heart ache.

She offers a small smile, reaching out to take the paper he hands her. “I’ll take good care of him. I promise.”

He nods, and she slips from the room, keys, address, and extensive dog instructions in hand.

And then it hits her.

Just what _has_ she done? She’s never taken care of a dog in her life. She’s never taken care of _anything_ in her life. Except one fish. And that one died within a week.

With a feeling of impending doom hanging over her, Rey heads out of the hospital to call Finn and Rose for a ride. To Ben’s place apparently.

_This ought to be interesting_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dogs...sometimes they just happen...


	10. Dog-Sitting and Visits

“He has a _dog_?” Rose asks as soon as Rey gets in the car.

“Shhh,” Rey says, slamming the door shut. “Yes.”

“Kylo Ren has a dog,” Finn says.

“Yes. And he’s…not Kylo Ren.”

“What?” Rose asks, turning around in her seat. Finn almost does too, before Rose gives him a sharp rap on the arm. “You’re driving, mister.”

“Right,” Finn says, eyes back on the road.

“I found out his real name. But…I don’t know guys, I don’t think I should tell you.” _Why are you even bringing this up if you don’t want to tell them?_ She wants to. Of course she does. But she _shouldn’t_. She knows it’s his secret to keep.

“Then you shouldn’t,” Rose says, turning back in her seat to look out the front window.

“What? No, she can’t just leave it at that,” Finn says. He sounds horrified. And annoyed.

“Sorry. Maybe I should ask him before I tell anyone.”

She watches as Finn elbows Rose. “I told you it was a terrible name.”

Rey just rolls her eyes. It’s worse than that, really, and she’s pretty sure Finn and Rose would be really _really_ shocked. She knows that Rose is a huge fan of Leia Organa and owns all of her recordings. Finn has a few recordings of _Millennium Falcon_ , Han Solo’s band. If _Rey_ is still reeling from finding out who he’s related to, she’s not sure how they’ll take it.

“Whatever,” Rey finally says, glancing down at her phone. “Take a right up here.”

“This is some ritzy neighborhood,” she hears Rose whisper.

“I’m almost afraid to drive this klunker down the street,” Finn admits.

“There’s nothing wrong with an X-Wing,” Rey says. “It’s a fine old car.”

“It’s falling apart around my ears. It’s _at least_ thirty years old and probably more rust than anything,” Finn says

“It’s _vintage_ ,” Rey shoots back with. It’s an old argument. She’s helped fix up the old thing any number of times. Her friends are still amazed at how much she knows about the old junk car that Finn drives. But she didn’t spend the last bit of her teen years slaving away in Unkar Pluitt’s junkyard without learning something about cars. She hated Plutt. She hated his lousy no-good wife who spent most of her days holed up in her bedroom drinking and watching soap operas. But she _loves_ the cars.

If she didn’t have such a passion for music, she might have ended up as a mechanic or an engineer, even.

“Oh, not _this_ again,” Rose says. 

“It’s just up ahead,” Rey says. “Number 347. On the right.”

Finn slows down and turns into a driveway. The house is set far back from the road, much further than its neighbors, almost as if it didn’t want anything to do with them. It’s not a terribly large house, certainly not ostentatious by any means. She doesn’t know what she expected but _this_ wasn’t it.

“This is it?” Finn asked.

Rey shrugs. “He lives by himself.”

“Yeah it’s just…I guess I expected more.”

Rey opens the door and steps out. “Thanks for getting me here guys.”

“Wait…don’t you want us to come?” Rose says, leaning over Finn to talk out his window to her.

“I don’t need you…”

“What if the dog is a biter?” Finn asks. He’s never really _hated_ dogs, but he’s never been comfortable with them either. He’d been bitten by a German Shepherd when he’d been only 8 years old, and while his description points to its being his fault, grabbing the dog’s tail as he had, it’s certainly understandable why he’d be nervous of them.

“He won’t be,” Rey says.

“How can you be sure?”

“I just…I know, okay? I’m sure of it.”

“Alright but…have 911 on speed dial, girl,” Rose says. “Finn and I are gonna run back and get your car. We’ll drop it off a little later.”

Rey waves a hand at them. “Whenever. I’m probably going to end up crashing on a couch.”

“Or in his bed,” Rose says with a smirk.

“I am _not_ that kind of woman.”

Rose laughs. “Whatever you say, girl. Now go get that dog. Make sure he’s okay.”

Rey steps back and Finn backs up the car with a wave.

And then she’s all alone, the key to Ben Solo’s house clutched in one hand and a backpack slung over her shoulder. She doesn’t have clothes for the night. She doesn’t even have a toothbrush or a hairbrush or _anything_. Though she expects someone with Ben’s hair probably has several extra brushes and probably a fair bit of hair product laying around too.

When she steps up to the door, she hears barking.

Not close.

The dog isn’t by the door at least. But she can hear him the house, somewhat frantic, his bark getting more high-pitched as she puts the key in the door and opens it. She steps in, letting the door close behind her, and feels for the light switch.

“Kylo?” she asks, as she turns on the light. And _this_ is the reason she couldn’t let Finn and Rose accompany her. How can she explain that, oh yes, her musical partner has the _same name_ as his dog. It’s almost more ridiculous than she could ever have imagined.

She can hear him barking and so she sets her bag down and follows the sounds through the house.

When she opens the kitchen door, she has about half a second before she is flattened by 50 pounds of flying crazy dog. She’s trying to push him off and get back to her feet, and all she gets is a tongue across her face and frantic paws and finally, “Kylo! Stop!”

He's wiggling his way across her body and she can’t help it. She laughs. How could she not? _This_ is Ben Solo’s dog. Ben of all the intensity and the frowns, Ben who she’s seen smile exactly _once_ and that’s when he’s under the influence of a concussion and God knows how many drugs. Kylo is…happy. Excited. His whole body wags with his tail. He doesn’t know her, has never met her, but she is his _instant_ friend.

She finally gets out from under him and kneels. Kylo pushes his snout into her hand, wiggles a bit, and then turns his back on her.

She pauses. Her experience with dogs can be summed up as “love from afar.” She’s spent time with a neighbor’s dog once and watches dog movies on TV. But that’s about it. So she makes a huffing noise and stands.

“You probably need to go out, eh boy?”

And _this_ gets a reaction. Kylo dances around her, spinning and barking. She tries to make her way to the kitchen. Ben’s notes indicate the door out the back of the kitchen leads to the fenced in yard. _There’s a light, make sure you put it on. I don’t like leaving him out in the yard without the light, especially at night. There could be coyotes_. She’d rolled her eyes at that. Coyotes…fuck.

Kylo gets in her way, racing around her, back in front of her. She has no idea what kind of dog he is, medium sized, mostly black, with kind of crazy ears and eyebrows. He’s cute, fluffy. And ridiculously fast.

She finally finds the door. Kylo dives on a box near the door, coming up with a toy that he squeaks over and over and over again. She contemplates grabbing it out of his mouth, but whatever. He needs to go out more than she needs to worry about his destroying some ratty toy. She turns on the light and throws open the door, watching as Kylo races out with another bark. And finally, she feels like she can breathe. At least he’s outside. At least he can do whatever needs to be done and she knows he’s safe.

It’s only moments after she’s shut the door and retreated back into the house that her phone rings. Finn, probably, she thinks, grabbing for it. “You guys _literally_ just dropped me off…”

“What?” comes the unexpected voice.

“Ben?”

He makes a strange noise. “Don’t…don’t call me that.”

“There’s no one here,” she points out. “And I can’t call you Kylo anymore. Sorry. Not now that I know the _real_ Kylo.”

“How is he?” he blurts out.

“Oh my gosh, you called to ask about your dog. He’s fine. Outside right now…”

“Did you turn on the light?”

She laughs. “Yes, the light is on. There are no coyotes.”

Ben growls something unintelligible.

Rey laughs. “He’s _fine_ , Ben. He’s racing around the yard, probably just happy to be out there.”

“Did he take out a toy?”

“I take it that’s normal?” she asks.

Ben snorts. “I should have warned you. Kylo refuses to go outside if he can’t have something stuffed in his mouth.”

She looks through the window out into the yard. She can hear Kylo barking and she’s pretty sure that means the toy is out there…somewhere. “Do I need to go find it?”

“Just leave it. It’s dark so you probably can’t see just how many of those things are sitting out in the mud.”

“He’s cute,” Rey says.

“Yeah.”

Ben falls silent and Rey isn’t quite sure what to say for a moment. “Look, you should get some rest. Kylo’s fine. I’m going to let him back in soon and feed him.”

“Okay,” Ben says.

“He’ll be _fine_ ,” she reiterates.

He’s silent for a moment.

“Rey?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for taking care of him.”

He hangs up then and Rey holds the phone to her ear for just another moment, before hitting the button on her end. She’s left standing his kitchen, watching Kylo as he races around the yard, and she wonders, not for the first time, just what the hell she’s gotten herself into here.

* * *

Ben sighs as he hangs up the phone.

He’s pretty sure his whole useless life is falling apart.

Rey knows who he is, who he _really_ is. Not just the persona Snoke has carefully constructed for him. In a matter of minutes, she’s learned his real name, realized she knows his parents, his uncle, and now she’s met his damned _dog_.

He’s never even had a woman over to his house. He lets out a small laugh at that, tossing the phone on the table next to him. Nothing in the place is protected against snooping. Not that he thinks she’d do it, but how well does he know her really?

_Probably better than you think_.

He’s not sure he wants to examine that thought, tries to push his inner monologue away.

Rest.

He needs rest. 

He needs to regain his fucking memory. Everything hinges on that. He doesn’t know why, but there’s a part of him that _knows_. Ben is not someone people would consider graceful. He’s too big, his steps too heavy, his feet too big for anyone to describe him as such. But he’s not the clumsy type to just…fall down the stairs.

It's…

He can’t quite finish that thought. There’s a commotion at the door to his hospital room, and then a voice. “Oh thank God, we found it…”

When the door is thrown open, he wants to hide. _._ He can hear the nurse’s voice in his head. _No fast movements, buddy._ Maybe if he just feigned sleep. But no, there’s no chance for that because, she’s just _there_ and there’s no chance to hide. She’d probably catch him anyway. “Mother,” he mumbles.

She’s dressed to the nines as she usually is. He’s not even sure what time it is. She’s probably just left some after-party for the Met. The fact that she apparently hopped on a plane and flew all this way should mean something, but at the same time, he feels his lip curl up in a sneer.

He hasn’t seen her in months.

No, years, probably.

He avoids Thanksgiving, Christmas, sometimes remembers to send her a card on her birthday. It’s been easier to not see her, to not face her or his father or any of what he tries to consider his past life.

“Mother,” he says, his voice flat.

“Ben!” Leia shouts as she rushes into the room.

He cringes. “A little quieter,” he mumbles. He can’t quite meet her eyes, but he can feel her gaze on him. He feels small in that bed, more the child he had once been than the man he is now. He’s been taller than her since he was ten, long before he shot up to over six feet. He barely ever remembers looking up to her and yet, still, she’s such a huge presence that he always _feels_ like he is.

She says nothing for a moment, then – “They tell me you have a concussion.”

“How did you even find out?”

“I have my ways.” She smirks at that.

“Always a mystery, aren’t we?” Ben manages to get out.

“ _Benjamin_ ,” she says as she comes to sit next to him, wrapping her fur coat around herself. Or fake fur he realizes. His mother would never wear _real_ fur. She’s practically worshipped the ground PETA has walked on since he was a kid. “What happened?”

He shrugs. “I fell…apparently.”

“Snoke.” There’s a darkness to her voice.

“He was there, yes,” is all he says in answer. He says nothing more than that and he can just _see_ the words turning over inside her mind, can see the wheels turning.

“You don’t know what really happened, do you?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You don’t,” she reiterates.

“No,” he finally manages to say.

“He did this,” she says, and she’s so _certain_. She always has been, his mother, never beating around the bush.

“I fell down the stairs,” he says, parroting the only information he knows. How it happened? Where? What floor? How he got to the hospital. It’s all a mystery that he desperately wants to unravel.

“Fell,” she says.

“Yes. It was just an accident.”

“Of course it was.” He knows she doesn’t believe him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Mother, you’ve been watching too much Law & Order again, haven’t you?” There’s a dry humor behind the words. It is, perhaps, the best he can really get with her.

She shakes her head. “Maybe, but…”

“Snoke came to our rehearsal and he wanted to talk to me after. That’s it. I went to his office. And I woke up here.”

“And that doesn’t seem suspicious to you?” she asks.

It’s innocent enough, he supposes. But it causes him to sit up suddenly, eyes hard as he glares at her. “Of course it does!” he snaps. The room spins a little and he closes his eyes, falling back to the bed. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Ben…”

“Mother, why are you here?” he asks without opening his eyes.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she says. It’s a surprisingly simple thing, coming from her. Though he’s fairly certain he wants to steal him away from Snoke. Still. A part of him wants to let her. A part of him _wants_ to abandon Snoke. _Come record with your father. We’ll find you performances_.

But no, Snoke will ruin him.

And worse, perhaps, he’ll ruin _Rey_ now. Rey, who’s like…some breath of fresh air. The light to his darkness. _Fuck, stop waxing poetic. It’s not a good look for you, Ben_.

“Well, you’ve seen me. You can go now.”

She doesn’t move. Of course she doesn’t. And he finally opens his eyes to meet hers. She looks…old, he realizes. Or older at least. Lines at the corners of her mouth, a furrow between her brows. She looks tired and worn out, and he knows he should be thankful that she’s come to see him. Only he doesn’t _feel_ thankful. He feels…sad. Just… _sad_.

She looks like she wants to say more, like there’s something there on the tip of her tongue that she can’t quite force out. Instead, she asks, “Who’s taking care of that dog of yours?” 

“Rey,” he says. _Fuck_. He’s going to pay for that slip up. His mouth is clearly quicker on the draw than his brain at the moment.

“Who’s Rey? A new friend?” his mother asks, ever the curious one.

And he realizes at that moment he can just play it up. Rey has one of those gender neutral names and he’s never been more thankful for that than now. “Helps out when the other dog sitter isn’t around.”

Leia nods. “Well, I hope he takes good care of him. I know how much you love that dog.”

“She’s great,” Ben says and… _fuck fuck fuck_. That mouth again.

“She?” Leia says.

He knew it would be too good to be true that she could just miss that little slip-up. _He, mom…I meant he…I swear_ …

“You have a girlfriend, Ben?” Now he knows he’ll never get rid of her. “You never tell me anything anymore. No calls, no e-mails, nothing. I had no idea that you…”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” he explodes with, hand going to his head as he flinches.

“No?”

“No.”

“Then…”

Maybe this is even worse. “She’s my new partner. _Musical_ partner,” he clarifies before she can think that his relationship has gone further than girlfriend.

And now his mother looks honestly confused. There’s a deep furrow forming between her brows. “You mean…”

“Mom, I have a concussion,” he interrupts with. “I need rest.”

“You shouldn’t sleep,” she points out.

He laughs. He can’t help it. “Rey said that too. Apparently not true, according to Nurse Ratched.”

“Nurse…”

“Nevermind.” He shakes his head. His mother never did get his love of classic novels. Her interests lay in one area and one alone: opera. So he can’t blame her for not getting the reference.

“You’re performing with someone,” his mother says.

“I will be. We’re rehearsing.”

“And you trust her enough to watch your dog? To go to your house? How long have you known this woman?”

“Mother.

“I mean it, Ben. Do I need to go check on things?”

“Fuck no,” he says.

“Mouth, dear,” she says. “I don’t know where you learned such language from.” The latter is said with a little sniff of disdain.

And Ben smiles. He can’t help it. Damn her. He forgets sometimes just what a plucky woman his mother is. There’s a part of him that hates her, or wants to, but there’s a smaller part of him that remembers the warmth of her hugs, and the afternoons spent at the piano as she taught him the basics. She was never _there_ for him. Not in the way he wanted. But she was there, nonetheless. “I believe that would be from _you_.”

His mother puts a hand over her heart. “A smile…an honest to God, real smile. Who knew your face could even do such a thing?”

He shrugs.

“And there you go,” she says. “Frowning again. I guess I’ll have to live with that one shining moment that proves you have at least a little bit of a sense of humor.” She stands then and walks closer to him. “I’ll leave you to your rest then.”

He wants to scoot back and away on his bed as she comes to stand over him. He feels small there. Small and inconsequential as always. “Mother…” he starts to say.

“Oh don’t you _mother_ me. I’m not going to hug you, don’t worry. I know how much you hate to be touched.”

He wants to correct her, but he knows there’s some truth to that. He pulls away at every chance he gets, especially with his family. He doesn’t know why…it’s just always there, something deep and dark inside him that comes between them. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t be,” she responds and he’s surprised by the warmth in her voice. It’s unexpected, that little bit of affection. “It’s who you are.” She reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder instead of trying to hug him. Her hand is small, warm, and she squeezes for just a moment before releasing him. “Just remember what I’ve said about Snoke.”

For once he doesn’t roll his eyes. He knows she’s right. He _hates_ that she’s right, that she’s always been right. “I know,” he says.

“Good.” She turns to go then, but looks back at him one more time. “And maybe sometime you’ll come to dinner?”

“Maybe,” he says, his voice gruff.

“Good.” And then the parting blow. There always has to be one. “Bring Rey.”

She’s gone a moment later and Ben lays his head back with a groan. _Rey_. He really has no idea what he’s going to do about her.


	11. Returning Home

She doesn’t remember falling asleep.

She’d found Ben’s television and his slew of streaming services. It seems he has most of them, which surprises her for some reason. She doesn’t know why, really. She just expected him to basically come home, practice more piano and like, read books on the plague or something. She wouldn’t have thought he’d have much joy in life.

And his television viewing leaves a lot to be desired, which is _not_ a surprise. He seems to tend toward dark shows and movies, apocalyptic end of the world types of things, psychological thrillers. She wonders what he’ll think when he comes back to recommendations based on _Because you watched Brooklyn Nine-Nine_. Maybe he could do with a bit more comedy in life.

But then there’s the whole dog thing. Kylo, as she’s discovered, is about the happiest dog she could imagine. He had raced around the yard with joyful abandon, danced in circles when she offered him dinner, and had curled up next to her almost as soon as she sat down the couch, putting his snout in her lap and falling into a contented sleep.

He’s unexpected, that dog.

And it throws off everything she thought she knew of Kylo Ren… _Ben Solo_ , she reminds herself. He’s not _Kylo Ren_ at all. It’s a stage name, apparently, something he hides behind.

She really doesn’t know what to think.

“Hey Kylo,” she says, and watches as the dog stretches before looking up at her. The clock says it’s still early, barely six in the morning. She can leave if she wants to. Finn and Rose had done as they said they would and she can see her rusted out car sitting outside Ben’s house, an eyesore among the well-manicured trees and landscaping at the front of the house.

It'll be gone before Ben gets home if she has anything to say about it.

She lets Kylo out and wanders to the refrigerator. Black, of course. Like the rest of the appliances in his kitchen. There’s not much in it and she wonders what he eats. There are some eggs, though, some milk that hasn’t gone bad. There’s bread in one of the cupboards. She can at least make something for herself if need be.

After glancing out the window again to see Kylo sitting at the front of the yard watching for whatever it is dogs watch for, she continues the explorations she never made the night before.

There’s a den right off the kitchen and she pokes her head in. It’s a veritable _shrine_ to science fiction and fantasy movies. There’s a whole wall of Lego models, all Star Wars ships and scenes, posters from old Star Trek movies, and some other things she vaguely recognizes. In the middle is a computer and a massive monitor, and one of those gaming chairs.

Tucked out of the way on one of the small tables in the room is a photo. A much younger Ben stands in front of a piano, an older man and woman standing on either side of him. Parents, she would guess by the proud smiles on their faces and the familiar way they have their arms draped over the uncomfortable young man standing between them. Ben looks like he desperately wants to disappear, and she can just see the beginnings of the near-permanent furrow he has between his brows. His hair is shorter, ears sticking out from the really terrible bowl cut.

She smiles.

There’s something about it, soft and a little awkward. “There’s so much I don’t know about you,” she whispers to the photo. And she realizes, strangely, that she _wants_ to know more. He’s an enigma, a mystery, and she always has enjoyed a good mystery.

Her cell phone ringing makes her jump back a little. She’s snooping. Terrible thing, that. She wouldn’t want Ben to go looking through her personal effects. She’s rushing out of the room when she answers the phone.

“Rey?”

“Ben!” The word is a little too loud.

He says nothing for a moment. “They’re releasing me this morning,” he says. No preamble, of course. The words curt and to the point.

“Do you remember any…”

“No,” he cuts her off with. She hears him take a deep breath and she knows that part of him must be terrified. She’s never lost an entire swath of her memory, never gone looking for something and not been able to find it. She doesn’t really remember her parents, of course. But she was young then, and most of those memories have faded with time. “I have a ride. They’ll be here shortly.”

A ride. “Oh…” She doesn’t ask who. She doesn’t know much about his personal life, though she sees no evidence of a significant other, and considering _she_ was the only one at his bedside, she thinks there must not be anyone else.

She’s dying to know who’s picking him up.

But she won’t pry.

“So Kylo?” she asks.

“There are chews,” he says. “In the cupboard next to the refrigerator. He’s happy to be gated into the kitchen with one of his chews. I…I won’t be long.”

She nods, and then realizes he can’t see her. “Okay. I’ll just…let him out and then leave?”

“Sure…” Another pause. “Thanks again. I…we’ll get back to rehearsals soon.”

“We have a concert coming up,” she points out.

He’s quite for a moment. Then – “Yes.”

“Okay then. I’ll just…go take are of that.”

“Yeah…”

She hangs up then. Neither of them say goodbye and she feels strangely empty after the conversation. She’s not sure _what_ she really expected, like they somehow know each other now. They do, she guesses, in a way, but she’s not sure if they’re quite friends yet.

With a sigh, she turns back to Kylo. The dog whines and she opens the back door, letting him out for one last race around the park. When he’s settled a bit more, she lets him back in and goes in search of the chews Ben had told her about.

It’s not hard to find them.

The dog leads her right to them, trying to shove his furry body inside the cupboard. “Really like these things, huh buddy?” she says.

He doesn’t respond. She’s not sure why she thought he might. _The dogs in the movies always do_.

 _The dogs in the movies are trained_ , she points out. To herself.

“Maybe I need one of you guys at home,” she says to Kylo as she steps back into the kitchen. She’s spending too much time on her own, she supposes. A dog might do her some good. Or maybe a cat. Or…fish. She’s not sure she has the energy to take care of a dog, really, and she wonders how Ben finds the time.

“Okay, this is for you.” She holds it out to Kylo and he jumps up, snatching it out of her hands. “So training is definitely _not_ Ben’s forte. Got it.”

She steps back and closes the gate and at the click, Kylo turns to look at her. The look on his face is quizzical to say the least. “Your daddy will be home soon.” His head cocks to the side. The chew sticking out of the corner of his mouth almost makes it look like he’s smoking a big fat cigar, and she finds herself laughing. “I promise.”

She has to turn away then before she feels bad and stays with the dog until he returns. With a sigh, she gathers up the few things she had with her and heads to the door. She’s locking it when she hears the car pull up.

At least she can give Ben back his key before she has to leave.

But it’s not Ben who gets out of the sleek black car. It’s another man. Older, a little grizzled, but she’d recognize him anywhere. “Oh my God,” she whispers.

“Who are _you_?” Han Solo asks her as shuts the door and leans one hip against his car.

“I…no one,” she starts to say. “You’re Han Solo.”

He blinks once. “I used to be,” he says a shrug. “Didn’t think kids your age were into my music.”

“They are,” she says quickly. “I mean, well, _I_ am.”

He’s still leaning against the car, studying her. His arms cross over his chest as he narrows his eyes on her. “So who _are_ you, anyway?” he asks.

  
“Oh right, of course.” _Han Solo_ , the legend. She’s standing there facing down Han Solo, rock legend. It’s just…her brain has fizzled. It’s a funny thing, that. She’s met any number of famous classical artists, including Kylo Ren. But here she is faced with an old rocker and she’s gone tits up. “Sorry, I’m being terribly rude. I’m Rey,” she says, stepping toward him with her hand out.

He glances down at her hand for a moment before taking it in a brief, firm handshake. “And you would be?”

“Oh I’m fucking this one up right bad, aren’t I?” she says, and then claps her hands over her mouth. “Sorry.”

He shrugs again. “I’ve heard worse on the road.” There’s a crooked half-grin there that puts her in mind of Ben. His _son_ , she reminds herself.

“Of course.” _Stop being a silly fangirl_. “I was watching Ben’s dog for the night.”

At this, the look on his face turns grim. “Kid’s gotten himself in a world of trouble.”

She nods.

“So the dog sitter, eh?” he asks.

“Oh…no, you have it all wrong. I’m his new partner.” She cringes when Han’s eyebrows shoot up. “I mean, musical partner. I’m Rey,” she says again. “I play the violin. I just…Ben’s had an accident and…”

“Ah, and here I was thinking my son finally found himself a pretty woman to settle down with.” There’s a little bit of a glint in his eye, and then he winks.

“Right, no,” she says. “Sorry. I mean maybe there’s someone. I don’t really know him all that well, so I suppose there could be…” She takes a deep breath. “But I guess if there was, she’d be here instead of me, right? Unless, I don’t know…”

“So musical partner?” Han says, interrupting her verbal diarrhea. “Thought that kid would never grow up enough to perform with someone else.”

“Snoke wanted it,” she says without even thinking of the words that are coming out of her mouth.

Han cringes.

“Shit,” she says. “Oh, bloody hell, that was _not_ the best thing to say. Sorry. It’s just…” She cringes. “Ben will be home soon,” she finally manages to say. Maybe the most intelligent thing that’s come out of her mouth since she found Han Solo standing outside Ben’s house.

“So he’s not that bad off then.” Han shakes his head. “His mother made it sound like he was on his deathbed.”

“His mother went to see him?” Han’s eyebrows shoot up. “Sorry.” She steps toward him holding out the key. “Since you’ll be here when he gets back, can you give him this?”

Han stares at it for a moment before taking it and _Oh my gosh_ she just handed something over to Han freaking Solo.

It’s unreal.

Her friends are going to _choke_. Or at least, they would if she could tell them any of this.

 _Oh fuck_.

“Thanks!” she says, takes a deep breath. “It was really really nice meeting you, Mr. Solo.” She holds out her hand and is relieved when he takes it despite the utter fool she’s making of herself.

“Call me Han, kid. The only people who call me ‘Mr. Solo’ work for me, and to be honest I _hate_ it.” He smirks then, that same pulling up of one side of his mouth.

She finds herself grinning back. “Okay then… _Han_. Take good care of Ben, okay? I don’t think he’s as ready to be home alone as he thinks he is.”

Han nods, and she rushes off, starting up the rusted out piece of junk and turning back toward the road. She can see Han staring after her as she leaves, and she wonders, for just a moment, if she’s done the right thing in leaving him there alone.

* * *

There’s a car out in front of his place when Ben gets home.

He’d recognize it anywhere, even after all this time, and he cringes. It’s bad enough he had to face his _mother_ , but now his father, too? He had been closer to his mother as he grew up. They hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye on things, and as he got older, they’d clashed more than he would have liked. But there had been commonalities there. The music, mostly. She had her opera. He had his piano. And so even when things were rough, they had that _language_ between them. 

His father?

Nothing.

He’d been out touring with his rock band when Ben had been born. And he hadn’t seen enough of him growing up to feel any sort of real connection.

And then Ben had become a teenager.

And his father had thrown every tantrum he had back in his face.

Ben had retreated to his piano and his father had continued his life on the road. It was easier that way.

He gets out of the taxi he’s taken home and sways a little as he digs through his wallet for the appropriate money for the driver. And then he’s standing in front of his own house, eyes still a little bleary. But he can hear Kylo barking in the yard and he’s sure his father is outside playing with him. He never much liked Ben, but he could well imagine he’d take a shining to Kylo. His father always did have a fondness for dogs.

When he lets himself in, there’s no one there to greet him. The place is blessedly quiet. He steps into the living room and can see the blanket that he had neatly placed over the back of his couch spread out over it. He picks it up, intending to fold it back up to its proper position when he gets a scent of…it. Rey. Rey has been there, curled up in that blanket, and he _hates_ that he’s almost instantly hard.

He didn’t even realize he knew her _scent_.

But of course he does.

She’s come to stand over him at the piano how many times now, has sat next to him, written on his music. She’s just _there_ and he would recognize the smell of whatever it is she uses on her hair. Something a little coconut, a little vanilla. Not the heavy perfumes preferred by his mother, but something light and fresh and _her_.

“Hello, son,” comes the voice behind him, and he drops the blanket like it’s burned him.

He whirls around and that makes the room spin violently around him. He’s almost sick, instead slumping down onto the couch as Kylo comes racing into the room. The dog throws himself at him, hitting the back of the couch hard enough that Ben winces.

“Hey, bud,” he says as Kylo lays down with his head on his chest. “Rey took good care of you?” He’s ignoring his father. Maybe it’s childish, but he has no idea what to say to the man right at that moment. His brain still feels like it’s been scrambled inside his head.

“Ben,” his father says and there’s that _note_ to his voice. A little annoyed, a little sad. He looks old, Ben thinks. Far older and more worn than the last time he’d seen him. He looks different on TV, at the awards ceremonies where they put makeup on him, lit up in concert where his face is half in shadow.

Here he just looks tired.

“I’m fine,” Ben finally says. “You know the way out.” He leans his head back against the couch, closes his eyes.

There’s no sound for a moment, and then he hears a creaking noise. His father has come to sit in one of the chairs that are off to the side of the couch. He can _feel_ his gaze on him.

“Son,” Han starts to say.

“Don’t,” Ben says. He opens his eyes to find his father watching him, eyes a faded blue that almost match the worn-out jeans he’s wearing. “Please just don’t. I can’t deal with it right now.” He puts his hand to his head. There’s a headache that’s lodged right behind his right eye, near where he’d apparently hit his head when he fell.

Han nods. “What happened?”

“I don’t know”

Han rolls his eyes. “My only son gets hurt bad enough to be stuck in the hospital overnight and you can’t even tell me what happened?”

“I’m sure mother told you,” he mutters. “I have partial amnesia.” He waves a hand in the air. “It may come back or it may not. I was told I fell down the stairs.”

He opens his eyes to see his father giving him a dark look. “You don’t believe that.”

He shrugs. “Rey sure doesn’t.”

His father smirks at that. “Lovely girl, that Rey.”

Ben sits up at that. “What do you mean?”

“She was here when I arrived. She’s quite beautiful, son.”

“Father…”

“Really liked the girl,” he goes on with.

Ben groans. “She recognized you.”

“Sure did.” His father sounds pretty pleased at that.

Ben groans again.

“Nothing to be worried about. I have groupies of all ages. It’s not like I’m going to…”

“ _Dad_ ,” he grinds out.

Han makes a huffing noise in the back of his throat. “That’s what I thought.”

He finally stands then, but of _course_ Ben has to take the bait. It’s what he’s good at, really, rising to the baiting his father does. The baiting his mother does. Even _Snoke_. And _that_ name makes his head ache even more. _Fucking Snoke_. He wasn’t with him when he fell, or so he says. Snoke and Hux found him in the hall and dragged him back up to Snoke’s office, where they called for the ambulance.

“You’re bright red, Ben.” Han steps closer to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Look, just remember to use condoms. And don’t break her heart, okay?” He’s amazed at how serious his old man looks when he imparts what he no doubt considers brilliant wisdom.

“She’s my _musical_ partner,” he says.

“Funny, that’s what she insisted. Had that same look on her face, too Like I’d just called her out on something she didn’t want to admit” He pauses there, and with another smirk and a nod, steps to the door. “Well, you just enjoy your time with your _musical_ partner, Ben.”

Ben is about to speak when Han looks down at his hands. He tosses him a set of keys. The ones he’d given Rey. “She asked me to give you those.”

He doesn’t catch them.

Of course he doesn’t. His eyes are still somewhat unfocused and his hand-eye coordination is rather seriously lacking. His father gives him one of _those_ looks.

“Are you sure you’re okay to be alone?” He hates that there’s a note of concern in the old man’s voice.

“The hospital cleared me, didn’t they?” Ben sounds tired. He hates that too. He just wants to curl up and sleep. He doesn’t need to talk to his father or his mother or even Rey right now. Even if the thought of her leaves a warm feeling somewhere deep inside him.

Han watches him for a moment longer, a pensive look on his face.

“Just go, Dad,” Ben finally says. “I’ll be fine.”

He nods. “Alright, son. I’ll go. But you call if you need anything.” He holds up a hand before Ben can manage to get another word out. “I mean it. I haven’t always been there for you. I know that. But if you need anything…”

“Sure,” Ben says and leans back, closes his eyes.

He hears his father’s quiet steps as they make their way to his front door. He’s asleep before he can even hear the sound of his father’s car starting up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it's taken so much time to get this out. Like so many of us, I'm struggling a bit now with the drastic changes to our world and the new reality we're facing. My whole life has changed in an instant...working from home, closed off from friends and family. I have my husband (who is immunocomrpomised, so we have to be extra careful) and our dogs. But it's not going to be easy. 
> 
> I love all of you, all my readers. Please feel free to drop me a line if you ever need to talk. My e-mail address is in my profile, or you can find me on Tumblr at spottytonguedog


	12. Defiance

She receives an e-mail from Ben less than a week later.

_Recovered. Next rehearsal Monday at noon?_

It’s signed Kylo Ren.

She sighs when she gets it. She had hoped, in some small distant part of her mind, that this whole thing would have brought them closer. She knows _him_ now. Not just the stage presence. She’s seen him bare-assed in a hospital gown, met his dog, talked to his father. She feels like she’s a part of his life.

But Ben?

_Kylo_ , she reminds herself.

Maybe none of this affected him the way it did her. Because frankly, she can’t stop fucking thinking about him. _Especially that bare ass_. Finn and Rose have been teasing her about it and Poe? Well, not a surprise but Poe just shrugs and reminds them that while Kylo Ren might have a decent enough ass, his is far better.

Thankfully he doesn’t pull his pants down to show her. But she’s pretty sure the only reason is because Amilyn is there with one hand on his arm and a look of such severe annoyance that Rey giggles a little. It’s almost fun seeing poor Poe reined in a bit.

She sends back an equally terse note to _Kylo_. She wants to ask if Snoke will be there. If he’s going to show up to all their rehearsals, haunting the auditorium like some sort of evil apparition. But she doesn’t. He’ll show if he wants to. There isn’t much she can do about it unless she wants to quit.

Which she doesn’t.

She’s downstairs digging up some food for her lunch when she hears the door open. She doesn’t see Dr. Skywalker very often despite living in his house. She can’t quite say he’s a recluse, but he definitely keeps strange hours and tends to keep to himself.

“Rey,” he says and his voice is warm. “How are rehearsals going?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

A look passes so quickly across his face that she might have missed it if she weren’t staring so intently at him. Worry? A little fear? And then his face morphs back into that serene smile that Skywalker usually has. “Tell you what?”

She’d roll her eyes if he weren’t so obvious. “That he’s not Kylo Ren. That he’s _Ben Solo_ and he’s your nephew.”

“Ah,” Skywalker says and turns to the fridge, opening the door and pulling out a jug of milk.

“Ah?” she asks. “Ah? Is that all you’re going to say, Dr. Skywalker?”

“Luke,” he says in answer to her question.

Rey blinks. “I’m sorry…what?”

“You can call me Luke. You’re no longer my student, Rey,” he points out.

“No, I’m not,” she says, and shakes her head. “I think I deserved to know that Kylo Ren was your nephew.” She steps closer to him. “Is that why I got the job? Because I was one of your students?”

Luke makes a huffing noise. “That probably counted against you.”

“What _is_ it between you two, anyway?” Rey bursts out with. “He said almost the exact same thing.”

“He knows you know.” Luke’s voice is flat.

“It was hard to hide when I found him at the hospital and ‘B. Solo’ written outside the door.”

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up. “Hospital?”

Rey shakes her head. “Yeah. He fell.”

There must be something in the way she says the words because he grabs onto that one like a dog with a prize bone. “Snoke?”

Rey takes a deep breath. “He was there. But…no one knows. It’s just his word. Ben…he doesn’t remember any of it. Snoke said he’d gotten distraught, that he’d fallen down the stairs.”

Luke makes another noise in the back of his throat.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks again.

“No one…” He pauses there. “No one knows. It’s easier that way.”

“Easier?” Rey asks. “For who?”

“For everyone.” Luke runs a hand through his hair. “Look, the rift between Ben and myself, between Ben and his _parents_. It’s an old one. And it’s frankly better left in the dust of antiquity.”

Rey just shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s ancient history to Ben.” She takes her leave of Luke then with a slight bow. She knows she’s right. She’s fairly certain _Luke_ knows she’s right. There’s something in the way Ben speaks of his family that indicates it’s all still very raw.

* * *

“Ben!” she calls out as she’s headed toward the entrance to Snoke Enterprises. She really _hates_ returning there. The whole place gives her the chills now.

Ben whips around when he hears his name, long black coat flying out around him. It’s windy that day and his hair gets in his eyes for a moment. But then it blows back and she can see his eyes, wide, the crease back between his brows. “Rey,” he says and moves quickly to her side. “You can’t call me that.”

“What? It’s your…”

“Not here,” he says. His eyes scan the area, and one of his hands comes up, almost settles on her shoulder, before he clenches it into a fist. “Not ever. You have to forget that name.”

“But it’s yours…” Her voice trails off.

“I should never have told you it.” There’s a darkness to the words. “Snoke doesn’t want anyone to know my real name. The fact that the hospital knew it was bad enough.” She must look confused because he sighs, runs a hand through his hair. He still has a bandage beneath the hair on one side and the hair there has been shaved away, but when his thick mop of hair falls over it, it’s hard to see. It’ll scar, but it won’t _show_. Nothing to mar the face of classical music’s dark pianist.

Not that he wouldn’t have looked all that much more dangerous with a scar down one side of his face.

“I was unconscious when I was brought in,” he says by way of explanation. “I’m sure they pulled out my wallet and found my real name.”

“Did they…” she starts to ask, but then clamps her mouth shut. It’s none of her business, really, if they contacted his parents. If they came to see him. She knows she left his father at his house and she wonders what he thought of that. She has no sense, really, of how estranged he might be from his family.

He hasn’t spoken to his uncle in half a decade.

But his parents? Surely if someone had _parents_ , no matter how difficult the relationship, they’d see them at least once in awhile?

“Did they what?”

“Nevermind,” she says. She starts to push past him to head into the building, but he reaches out a hand and stops her. It’s just a light touch to her shoulder, but it makes her jump anyway. She’s surprised to see him pull back his hand as if he’d burned it, watches as he rubs his fingers together.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

“You’re fine.” She steps toward him, brushes his arm lightly with her fingertips. “It’s not like I didn’t help you to the bathroom the other day,” she points out with a smirk.

He shudders. “Oh _God_ , did that really happen?”

“My seeing your bare ass in that hospital gown? You bet it did!”

He groans and now she _does_ push past him, stepping into the dim light of the building. With a shiver, she turns back toward him. “I hate it here,” she murmurs as he comes closer to her.

He nods, and there’s such a serious look on his face, that she wants to do something crazy. Like go up on her toes and kiss him, wipe the seriousness right off his face. Instead, she waits for him to say something. _Well, fuck_ , she thinks again.

“Let’s go,” he says instead, the words grim.

And just why _does_ she feel like she’s being led to the gallows instead of to a simple rehearsal?  
  


* * *

Snoke keeps coming around.

Ben hates it.

But it’s not like he has a choice.

He miraculously stays out of their first rehearsal back, which is a Godsend for them both, he thinks. Rey is on edge the entire time until Hux stops in and tells him that Snoke has meetings all afternoon and he’s not to be disturbed. The rest of the rehearsal, mostly on the Beethoven work that led to his hospital visit, goes fairly well.

They’re at least relaxed enough to argue the finer points of the work and produce something that, while not entirely memorable, is more than adequate. There are a few weeks left. They’ll put in the time and he knows that they’ll be able to pull it off.

Snoke will have nothing to be angry with them about.

He won’t give Snoke any reason to even _think_ about firing Rey.

It’s their next rehearsal that Snoke puts in a showing. He’s not there for long. They’re in the middle of a tricky part of the Respighi when he makes himself known, slithering out of the shadows to lean over his cane and stare at them,

He knows the moment Rey sees him. Her bow hand slips just a little, her fingers stumble. It’s only a momentary thing, something most people would probably not even notice. Her face takes on that hard look, eyes narrowed as she focuses.

But Snoke grins.

He knows. And he _likes_ it.

Their third rehearsal he shows up in the beginning demanding to hear what they’ve got. Rey shoots him a look and Ben has to step in between them, using his body to push her back just a little. There’s fire in her eyes.

Fire and fear.

The former will get her in trouble.

The latter? He doesn’t want to imagine what that will do. Snoke _lives_ for keeping people under hies thumb. He lives for the terror and the anxiety and their _hate_. He doesn’t want to be loved. Not Snoke. He wants to be feared and hated, wants to strike terror into the hearts of anyone who comes within a ten-foot radius. He does it, too. For someone who seems so frail, who looks a stiff breeze away from being taken out, he somehow manages to terrify everyone.

Including Ben.

He watches as Rey tilts her chin and shoots Snoke a look. And then she launches into the Paganini Caprice she’d played at her audition.

It’s not on the program.

He’s had no intention of programming a solo work.

He feels the ice flow through his veins, sluggish, dark and cold. Snoke looks less than pleased. He looks _livid_. His eyes come alive, cold and icy blue, as he stands and walks toward the stage. “What is this, boy?” he snarls.

Ben tries to say something, but nothing comes out.

Rey doesn’t stop playing.

Snoke steps closer, his eyes narrowed on her. “She’s not playing that at the concert.”

“No,” Ben says, but he’s not sure Snoke hears the quiet word over Rey’s playing. When he looks at her, her eyes are open and her back is ramrod straight. She’s not looking at Snoke. She’s looking at _him_ , and he can’t quite place what he’s seeing there on her face. Determination, certainly. She won’t let Snoke defeat her and he sees that now.

_She’s not quite the wilting flower I thought she was_ , he can hear Snoke’s voice in his head.

No, she’s not. Quite the opposite, really. She’s fire and ice and she _burns_ him. Even now, he’s equal parts aroused and terrified. Part of him wants to bend her over the piano and take her, plunge his cock into her until she screams. The other part of him wants to run away, hide, disappear into the nothingness that Snoke seems to think he is.

And so instead, he does nothing.

“Stop!” Snoke screams.

Rey doesn’t.

She launches into another solo violin work.

And then another.

Snoke is on the stage and a few feet from her when Ben finally unfreezes. “Rey!” he says, but the word is weak. Weak and scared and confused. Snoke reaches out long spindly fingers toward the neck of Rey’s violin, and then Ben _finally_ manages to move, shoving his way in between the two of them.

He pushes Snoke’s hand away.

And for just one moment, he’s left staring at his manager from far too close. He’s taller than Snoke, broader. It’s the first time that he’s felt like he could _break_ him if he tried. He wants to.

The feeling terrifies him.

With a snarl, he whirls around to face Rey. Who finally, blessedly, _stops_.

“Rey,” he says and her name is a soft cry from his lips. “What are you…”

She doesn’t look at Snoke as she pulls the violin away from her chin. Her hands fall at both sides. “I won’t let him scare me.” The words are determined. “But I won’t rehearse here anymore, Ben.” And now she does peek around him to look at Snoke. “Not if he’s going to be here.”

He watches her pack up.

He’s not sure what else to do, really. So he stands there, watching as she oh so carefully puts away her violin, the bow, closes the case.

And walks off.

He feels like she’s taking a piece of himself with her when she opens the door and strides out into the late evening sun. For a moment, just one small moment, he sees her silhouetted in the door, the sun making the tendrils of hair around her face glow, an angel of the light leaving his dark lair. She turns back toward him, but he can’t make out her eyes.

And then she’s gone, the door slamming behind her.

“Well, that was a fascinating display,” Snoke says, and Ben doesn’t dare turn to look back at him. “See that it doesn’t happen again.”

He can hear as Snoke shuffles his way off stage. Still, Ben doesn’t turn toward him. He hears the door open, can see the light from it out of the corner of his eye. Still, he doesn’t turn.

It’s when the door slides shut with a soft thump, that he turns around and rams his fist into the side of the piano. “Fuck!” he shouts to no one in particular. 

He’s going to have to do everything he can to get back into her good graces.

He realizes, as he’s packing up his music and flexing the bruised knuckles of his right hand, that he doesn’t even care what Snoke thinks.

And that is a very dangerous thing.

* * *

“You did _what_?” Poe is asking. He’s leaning across the table at their favorite coffee shop. The same one she’d brought Ben to before their first rehearsal. She’d been so distraught, so _angry_ after Snoke’s latest rehearsal fiasco, that she’d called the entire group there without thinking.

They came without even questioning. All of them. Finn and Rose, Poe and Amilyn. They’d met her there not more than an hour after she’d walked out of the rehearsal. She hasn’t even gone home. Her violin sits sedately in its case at her side, and she rests one hand on the comforting weight of it.

Rey shrugs. “Probably got my ass fired.” She lifts up her latte in a self-toast. She’s living dangerously, drinking caffeine this late in the evening, but fuck it. She hasn’t even gotten to their first concert, and she’s pretty sure that her contract says she won’t get paid if she walks before then.

She’s not sure it even matters anymore.

“He wouldn’t fire you,” Finn says.

“Snoke?” Rey says with a small huff of laughter. “You bet your ass he would. He’s been chomping at the bit to fire me the entire time.”

“ _Could_ he?” Poe asks.

“Get me fired?”

“No,” he says, waving one hand in the air, and she notices that glint of mischief that so often plays around his eyes. “Chomp at the bit. Do you think he even has all his teeth?”

Rey laughs.

“That’s not nice,” Rose says.

“Neither is Snoke,” Poe shoots back with. And for a moment they all stop laughing. They know the rumors. They know what someone with his money can do, buying off any victims. She wonders, all too often these days, what he’s done to keep Ben at his side all these years. She’s not sure she really wants the answer.

“Well,” Rey says, raising her glass again. “To my imminent firing.”

“Or to the best concert of your life,” Finn says.

“I’ll drink to that!” Poe says, and Rey is not entirely surprised when he produces a little flask and pours some of the contents into his coffee.

“Poe,” Amilyn hisses at him.

Poe just shrugs, wraps an arm around her and attempts to kiss her. Amilyn good-naturedly pushes him off. Finn and Rose, sitting across from her offer their glasses to Poe with a shrug.

Rey realizes she’s the fifth wheel.

She’s always the fifth wheel. Or the third. Finn and Rose have jokingly told her before that they love tricycles, and she’s not honestly sure if they mean what she _thinks_ they might mean by that. She never lets it go further than a joke. She loves them both. Dearly. But while she feels connected to them, it’s not like that. Finn is like a brother to her. Rose has become a sister in a way. Sister-in-law, she supposes someday.

Rey shrugs and offers her cup too. She doesn’t drink much, but a little nip of whiskey in her coffee can’t possibly do her any harm.

“If anyone deserves it,” Poe says, “ _you_ do. You stood up to Snoke.”

Amilyn leans over and puts her hand on Rey’s forearm. “We’re all proud of you.”

Rey nods, leans back. She sips at her coffee while the conversation continues around her. She offers her cup for a bit more whiskey. They’re all feeling pretty loose and comfortable when Finn sits up, eyes going to somewhere just over Rey’s shoulder.

He clears his throat.

“What?” Rey asks.

Finn nods his head, still looking somewhere over her shoulder. Rose lets out a small gasp.

“Rey.” She hears her name before she turns around. Ben. Ben Solo is there.

She whips around. “B…Kylo?” She cringes a little over the stumble.

_Kylo is the damned dog_ , she has to remind herself. It’s going to get awkward very fast if she has to keep calling him by his dog’s name.

“Rey,” he says again, and she’s surprised he sounds a little breathless.

“What are you doing here?”

He stops then and she sees the moment he realizes he’s been put on the spot. Finn and Rose are openly gaping at him. Poe looks amused and Amilyn? She can’t quite place the look on her face. It’s not quite amusement, not quite annoyance. Somewhere in the middle perhaps, but more than that there’s this _knowing_ look. She’s a bit older than the rest of them, has a good seven or eight years on Poe, and she wonders if Amilyn knew Ben _before_. Seeing her reaction to Ben, Rey is almost positive that she may have.

“Can we talk outside?” Ben finally says.

Rey looks around at the group, and nods. “Alright. If you insist.”

“I do.” And _there_ is that somewhat imperious tone he’s known for. He doesn’t give the rest of them more than a passing glance before he turns on his heel and retreats out the door.

Rey sets her drink down. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Amilyn reaches out a hand and lightly touches her on the forearm. It’s a strangely comforting gesture from a woman she really doesn’t know all that well.

“If he tries anything…” Rose says, holding up one fist.

Rey can still hear their laughter as she steps out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am dreadfully sorry this has taken so long. With everything so topsy-turvy lately I've found it hard to get in the mood for writing. The GOOD news is that the writing is coming better now. And I have most of the rest of this outlined (IF the characters will abide by my outline...they have been very unruly in this fic, often heading in directions I don't expect...). So hopefully I'll keep being able to post on a semi-regular schedule.


	13. Coffee Shop and Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so dreadfully sorry that it's taken me so long to get another chapter out. Between pandemic anxiety (starting to settle but ramping up again with the worry that my husband's teaching job may be in trouble in the fall) and an exchange fic I needed to write, this got shifted to the backburner. But the good news is I'm writing a bit better again and I just finished another chapter.

It’s stupid, he thinks, going to that coffee shop. He doesn’t even know why he rushed off there as soon as he could part ways from Snoke.

Snoke had, of course, told him he needed to fire her.

Ben had refused.

It had been another stand-off and Ben had finally stormed out of the man’s office. He could hear Snoke hurl a few curse words his way in that same chilling voice he uses for everything. _Stop thinking with your dick, Kylo._

He’s not.

Not really.

Oh, his cock is well and truly alive when Rey is around, and he tries to ignore that. He has no idea how to control it. It’s not like it happens very often. He barely remembers those hormonal teenage days, but he seems to recall he “controlled” it by holding a pillow over his lap, blushing like a schoolgirl, and racing to the bathroom to take care of things.

He can still hear his father laughing.

He can still hear his mother admonishing his father that she’s sure he was at _least_ as bad as a teenager and he really has no room to talk.

He doesn’t know if that’s what made him _him_ , made it so he seemingly had no attraction to anyone. He’d been told, more than once, during his college years that he was too uptight, too much a prude, that he just needed to loosen up, get drunk, have a good time with someone. He hadn’t been the most attractive guy at the school. Not by a long shot, though by the time he’d gone to Juilliard he’d grown into his overly large frame a bit. His longer hair hid his ridiculously large ears and he’d managed to attract at least a _small_ amount of interest.

Interest that had waned quickly once they talked to him.

“I’m not going back there,” Rey says.

Her voice is resolute, not so much as a quaver to the tone.

“I know,” he says, runs his hand through his hair. “I’m not asking you to.”

“You’re here to fire me,” she says and he’s pretty sure that’s not a question so much as a statement.

“What? No…”

She shrugs. “I figured you’d just be nice enough to get to it before Snoke drags me into his office and gives me the final word. I bet he’d be like one of those super villains. You know what I’m talking about. Some soliloquy before he tries to take out the protagonist…”

“ _Rey_ ,” he interrupts her with, his voice a little sharper than he intends.

She shakes her head. “If you’re not here to fire me on his behalf, then what are you here for?” Her nose scrunches up a little and his heart gives this strange little lurch. She’s…adorable, he realizes. She’s all strength and fury, but there’s this softer side to her that he’s only managed to catch glimpses of.

He tears his eyes away from that little scrunched up part of her nose to meet her eyes. “I’m offering a…well, a compromise of sorts.”

“A compromise.”

“Do you have to make everything so difficult?” he mutters.

“I don’t think it’s _me_ who makes everything difficult. I seem to think that there’s this complete _asshole_ who runs every bit of your life and who probably tossed you down the stairs in a fit of pique. I think _he_ is probably the one making everything difficult.”

Ben holds his hands up in defeat. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

“Then _why_ do you stay with him? I just don’t understand this. Ben…”

He glances around. “Kylo,” he mutters, taking a step closer to her.

She throws her hands up in the air. “I’ve met your dog. I’m not calling you Kylo.”

He really doesn’t know what to do about that. That whole thing is such a disaster and he only has himself to blame. This is all happening because he wasn’t good enough for Snoke and he listened to the bastard and agreed to work with another musician. If it wasn’t for that…no, there’s more than just that, he has to admit to himself. _That fucking concussion_. He’d let his emotions take over, let his unfiltered mouth talk to _Rey_. He should have sent her on her way as soon as she’d stepped in the door. Been the arrogant, rude jerk he knew that he could play at and chase her off.

Instead he’d told her his real name. Told her about his dog. Let her go to his place and meet his _father_ of all people. It’s like something took him completely over, or she’s weaved some sort of spell over him. Even now, he’s leaning more toward her than away, basking in her sunlight. She smells like…vanilla, he realizes. And coffee.

“Fine, whatever. It’s just…”

“If Snoke finds out that I know,” she says and her face twists funny at the words. “I know it would be bad for me. And for you.” He hates Snoke more than he ever has at that moment.

“Right.”

They fall silent and it takes him a moment to realize she’s watching him with this expectant look on her face.

“Ben? What is this compromise you’re offering me?”

He takes a deep breath. “We can rehearse at my place.” He shivers a little as the words leave his mouth, and he watches as her eyebrows shoot up. “You’ve seen it. I had a whole room built for my piano.”

“Of course you did,” she mutters, but there’s no ire behind the words.

He shrugs. “Money can’t buy happiness and all that rot, but it sure does come close sometimes.” Not that he’s happy. He’s…living. It’s a sort of half-life. He has his dog. But other than that, he’s alone.

Until _now_ he has not had a sense that he was lonely.

But lately, he feels that. He wants to text her, or call her, or e-mail her even if it’s written in absolutely ridiculous Comic Sans. He wants to hear her voice or listen to her play. He needs her. And that should terrify him. A small part of him _is_ terrified, of course, but the rest of him is thrilling to the way they play together.

They’re electrifying and he finds himself craving the little shocks to his system more and more each day.

“Look,” he finally says, running his hand through his hair. “I know this isn’t ideal. But it’s peaceful there. And you’ll get to see Kylo.” He holds up a hand and is surprised to feel the corner of his mouth curl up in a small half-smile. “The _real_ Kylo.”

She doesn’t say anything for a minute. He’s pretty sure he’s misspoken. But then she reaches out a hand and touches his arm. “It’s a fair compromise.”

“So you’ll come over? Really?”

“I know the way,” she says, and then her face breaks out in a smile that leaves him slightly breathless. He has to back up a pace, just to get out of the bright glow of it. “And I like Kylo.”

“Good. I’m glad. So…” He shoves his hands in his pockets. He’s never been good at this. The whole _goodbye_ thing. He usually just hangs up the phone after a curt word, and his socializing in person is limited to faking it at after parties. “I’ll e-mail you then?”

“Sure.”

He turns to walk off then but hears her voice one more time behind him. It stops him in his tracks for a moment.

“Ben’s not so bad either, you know. Turns out I kind of like him too.”

He shakes his head.

He’s pretty sure he can’t have heard her correctly.

But he doesn’t turn around and after a moment he hears the door to the café open and shut behind her. It’s easier for her to just go back to her friends. He half wishes she invited him to sit with her group of friends. He recognizes some of them from the after party at the school, and certainly he knows Amilyn Holdo. She’s an old family friend after all.

But the other, more practical side of himself, says _run_. And so he does, rushing for his car and making haste to go back home. Back to safety. Back where he’s not disturbed by a beautiful smile and wide hazel eyes.

_Ben’s not so bad either…_ _Turns out I kind of like him too…_

* * *

She watches him go and shakes her head. She’ll never understand him. One moment he’s offering her the most beautiful of compromises. They can continue being musical partners at a place where Snoke is not going to show his wrinkly little face. But then the next he’s turned cold, a little distant, and he’s rushing away from her without even acknowledging her final words to him.

_Ben’s not so bad either_ …

She doesn’t know what made her tell him that. But he’s not. He may be intimidating on stage, all darkness and intensity. But she’s seen another side of him these last few days. Stripped down and vulnerable at the hospital, the concerned dog parent.

She hadn’t expected that. She’s still a little flummoxed by that. Rose and Finn know about the dog, of course. But they know little else.

With a sigh, Rey returns to the noise of the café and the curious stares of her friends. “What was that all about?” Rose asks as soon as she sits down.

Rey hasn’t formulated an answer yet when Amilyn leans forward and touches her wrist lightly. She can’t say she’s ever been really _close_ to Holdo. She’d been the conductor of their orchestra and so Rey had been a part of it, but she’d also known that being in an orchestra wasn’t Rey’s dream. She worked hard for the concerts, of course, but it wasn’t where her heart lay.

“Is he okay?” she asks, her voice soft.

Is he? Rey’s not sure he is. Not really at least. There’s something very much _not_ okay about Ben Solo. And it’s not just because Snoke had potentially done something terrible to him. But it’s in the way he seeks connection but then backs off as soon as she tries to reach out. It’s in the way he doesn’t like to meet her eyes or always tells her she’s just _too close_.

He panics at human contact.

And it breaks her heart.

It’s not that she doesn’t _understand_ it. She’s been there before, going from one bad foster home to another. Trust doesn’t come easily, connection is even harder. But at one point she had to stop, take a deep breath, and force herself to push through it.

She’s been best friends with Finn ever since and knowing him has opened up so many other friendships for her.

Rose, Poe, even Amilyn. She finds herself surrounded by strong people these days, people she loves and who she’d move the world for.

Sometimes she thinks Ben may become one of those people. But he’s still zipped up so tight that she only just sees glimpses of the man the mask Snoke keeps him hidden behind hides. She finds she _likes_ that Ben.

She hopes maybe she’ll see more of him.

“Honestly?” Rey says. “I don’t know. Snoke…” she starts to say, but Amilyn holds up a hand.

“Say no more. We all understand.”

Rey nods. She wants to ask her, she really does. But then she’d have to reveal that she knows more about Ben than she lets on, that he’s not who they think he is. Kylo Ren came out of nowhere, but surely _someone_ must look at him and see the boy in the man. Longer hair certainly, more gravitas, but still the same quiet boy she saw in those pictures at his home.

“He wants to rehearse at his home,” Rey says.

“His home?” Finn asks, his voice going a little higher than normal “Are you sure that’s wise?”

Rey shrugs. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Snoke…” Poe starts to say. His eyes are intent as he leans forward to stare at her. She doesn’t usually see him like that, mouth set in a grim line and eyes slightly narrowed.

She shakes her head. “Snoke won’t be there.”

“Are you sure?” Rose asks.

“I…” she starts to say. He didn’t say. Not specifically. But it was the _intent_ of the gesture. She’s sure of it. No Snoke, rehearsals all their own. Just the two of them. And she hates the way that sends a little shiver down her spine. She and Ben Solo locked up in his house all alone for who knows how long? No Snoke to disturb them. No Hux, no secretary, not any of the people who work at Snoke Enterprises. Just… _them_. “I’m sure,” she finally says. “I don’t think Snoke has ever been to his house.”

“How do you know that?” Rose asks.

“The dog,” Rey says, and the words are firm. Certain. Snoke doesn’t know where his stage name came from. Hux doesn’t know he has a dog. No one does. Kylo is _not_ quiet, so if Snoke had ever come over, he’d have heard him at the very least. She can easily imagine the old bastard telling him to get rid of him…or worse, having someone break into his house to dump the poor dog on the street.

Snoke is a snake.

Fuck, even his _name_ sounds like he’s a snake. She wonders if that’s even _his_ real name, and the thought briefly passes her mind of trying to drag up that information. It passes quickly. She doesn’t want to know more about him.

“The dog?” Finn asks.

“Snoke doesn’t know about him. No one there does. He’s Kylo’s little secret.”

“Why would anyone care?” Poe asks.

“Snoke would,” Amilyn says, and there’s that _feeling_ again. Like she knows more than she’s letting on. There’s something sometimes unsettling about the woman. She’s so serene, hands clasped in front of her, expression neutral. But there’s a flash of something behind her eyes. Keen intelligence and this strange sense that she can delve into other people’s mind.

Rey would like to ask her more, inquire further into what she knows of Ben. _Do you know he’s Ben? Not Kylo?_ But she doesn’t. She wouldn’t dare. And so she lets the conversation drift away from the darker subjects. Sometimes it just easier that way.

There are too many questions.

And too few answers.

* * *

It’s another two days before she hears from Ben and she almost deletes the message at first. It comes from an e-mail address she doesn’t recognize, and it takes her a moment of reading it to realize it must be Ben’s private e-mail, something divorced from Snoke Enterprises, something completely divorced from his life as Kylo Ren.

It’s not signed, and she supposes that shouldn’t surprise her. Sometimes she’s not even sure who he really is. Kylo, Ben, or someone else entirely.

She had actually laughed out loud at the e-mail address. She’d seen the nerdy things in his house when she’d done her bit of snooping. She knows all too well that beneath whatever that Kylo Ren exterior of brooding intensity he exudes, he’s just some sci-fi and fantasy nerd. God, if _Snoke_ knew…

She can almost hear the petulant tone right through the e-mails. And she’d laugh, but she can’t deny the little flutter that races through her stomach at the thought of sitting down to a meal with him, of actually getting to talk to him. She’s so _curious_ , and that’s a bad thing. Finn would remind her that curiosity killed the cat.

_Well, it didn’t kill the dog, did it?_

She always did like dogs better anyway.

* * *

He almost chokes over that. Take-out? Just who does she think he is, anyway? It takes him a moment to get over his indignity to realize she doesn’t know him. Not really, at least. There are times he feels like they’re melded together in a way he’s _never_ felt with someone else, like they get each other’s minds.

But the reality is so different from that, musical partners and nothing else. _You’d like there to be,_ that tiny traitorous part of his heart and libido points out.

He just offered to cook her dinner.

That’s what he did there.

He can’t remember the last time he’s ever had a woman over to his house. Well, a woman besides his mother, who stopped by on the rare occasion, or the dog sitter. He’s pretty sure the answer to that might be _never_. It’s not like he’s dated much, or at all, really. The closest he gets are the woman he takes to the after-parties, and there’s no real interest there.

But Rey?

Fuck it all, he wants her at his place. And it’s about more than just Snoke and his meddling ways, about more than the way she’s clearly so uncomfortable around his manager. No, there’s something _there_.

It thrills him.

It _terrifies_ him.

He doesn’t know how to handle this sort of thing and for a moment he contemplates calling his father and talking to him about Rey, about what he should do about any of this. But the old man? He’s pretty sure he’ll just laugh at him. _You sure aren’t a chip off the block, eh kid?_

It's perhaps the one thing that’s driven him from his father. His dad is all suaveness and confidence. He knows how to handle everything that is tossed at him, be it the paparazzi, reporters with their invasive questions about his personal life, or his tumultuous relationship with Leia Organa, the coloratura diva of the Metropolitan Opera.

The only thing he never quite seemed to be able to handle was _Ben_.

He can’t quite imagine that. She seems so tiny next to him. But even so, he tosses off one final message that he’ll have enough food for a king’s feast and leaves it at that. He’ll have to see the next day just how much food she can actually put away.


	14. Rehearsals and other things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May the 4th Be With You All!

Rey arrives at a quarter to noon. Her knock on the door is greeted by a flurry of barking, a thud that indicates something either hit the ground hard or ran into a wall, and a whole lot of cursing before Ben throws the door open.

“You’re early,” he says, and he sounds annoyed.

Kylo, on the other hand, is _overjoyed_ to see her and races past Ben to leap at her. A full body leap, She’s almost knocked off her feet, but Ben reaches out almost like it’s a natural reflex, and grabs her upper arm, pulling her toward him while managing to keep her on her feet and somehow shoving Kylo back to the ground.

“Rehearsal starts at noon,” she points out.

“I told you to _be_ here at noon.”

“I assumed…”

Ben shakes his head. “We’re not going to ever let that one go, are we?” She’s surprised by the soft smile on his face, and even more surprised at the way her stomach seems to flip over all on its own accord.

She bends down to Kylo and reaches out to scratch the excited dog behind his ears. “It’s good to see you again, boy.” He lets out one bark, races in a circle, and then he’s off again. She straightens up to find Ben studying her with an expression on his face she can’t quite read. “What?”

He doesn’t move for a moment, just watches her, but then finally crosses his arms over his chest and looks away. “Nothing. You know where the piano is, I assume.”

And then he turns on his heels and Rey is left standing in the vestibule, staring at him. “Yeah,” she says softly. She does. And she has to admit to herself that she’s looking forward to hearing it. It’s a beautiful instrument and she knows it will simply _sing_ under Ben’s fingers. He has this way of wringing every last bit of emotion out of an instrument, leaving it dry and depleted when he walks away.

She steps into the room and right away she can just _feel_ it. Music. Everywhere. The room has felt things, heard things. It’s live, almost as live as the hall that they’ll be playing in. When the door opens, she startles a little at just how much _sound_ there is to it.

“Water?” he offers, holding out a bottle to her.

It’s a peace offering, she thinks. For what, she’s not sure. But there’s a look on his face that reads as a little contrite, a little concerned. “Thanks,” she says, taking it from him and setting it on one of the coasters that sit on the small table nearest to her.

There are a few scattered around the room, giving the impression that he’s used to rehearsing there, and she stops to run her hands over the smooth surfaces. Black, of course. It matches the piano, matches Ben. Even now he’s in dark clothes. Black jeans, a dark green sweater that somehow complements him in ways she really shouldn’t think about. “Do you have a lot of rehearsals here?” she asks as she reaches out for another one of the tables.

“No.”

Her head shoots up to study him. “No?”

“I rehearse here,” he says, coming to sit at the piano. “I…even when I used to accompany people…No.”

“But this room…”

“Was designed for me. For my piano, for my playing. Only the best for Snoke’s pet performer.” There’s such an undercurrent of hate beneath the words that for a moment she’s taken aback.

“Why do you stay with him?”

“Why would I leave?” he shoots back with.

Rey sighs. She knows this isn’t going to go anywhere. It can’t, she supposes. He’s signed a contract with Snoke and more and more she thinks he’s signed his life away for his bit of fame. It’s more than fifteen minutes, she supposes. Everyone in the classical music world knows Kylo Ren at this point. But still, someday that star will fade and where will he be? Relegated to history, unable to perform with anyone else. Snoke will dump him from his employment. She knows that. _Ben_ must know that.

“Sorry,” she finally murmurs. “Shall we?” She waves a hand at the piano.

He nods. “Of course.”

It’s what they have, really. This music. She doesn’t know if they have much else, but that connection is fierce and alive. She supposes that has to be enough for now.

* * *

_Open mouth, insert foot_. Ben has never been good at communicating with people. He’d been a quiet, introspective child, a surly teenager, and a loner as an adult. So it shouldn’t surprise anyone, least of all himself, that he can’t quite seem to respond to Rey in any way that one might consider to be normal.

He tries.

He really does.

But it seems like every time he opens his mouth, a bunch of nonsense comes out. He’d probably be better off if every time she asked him a question, he just grabbed Kylo and shoved the dog at her. _Here, pet my dog. My dog is good. You like my dog, right?_

The worst thing about it all is that he can hear his father in his head. No, not even his father, the people _comparing_ him to his father. _He sure is no Han Solo_ …

He follows behind Rey as she moves toward his music room, Kylo loping along at her heels. It’s…domestic. And she looks strangely _right_ in his home.

He’s not sure if that thought unsettles him or thrills him.

He doesn’t know anything anymore.

There was a time when he knew everything he was, everything he _stood_ for. He was Snoke’s man, Kylo Ren, bad boy of the classical world. He pounded the keys of the piano with all the anger and hate and _rage_ that was built up inside him. He was everything his parents weren’t, everything they didn’t want him to be.

But now?

Now he just doesn’t know.

He should be terrified.

But instead, he simply follows Rey into the room, offering her _water_ as some sort of truce. And now he just stands back and watches silently as she prepares her violin for their rehearsal. He can see the way her shoulders settle as she does so, relaxing into the familiar patterns. It’s almost ritualistic, and this he understands.

He sits at his piano, runs his hands over the keys. It’s his own ritual. It centers him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of the feel of the keys, the thrill of the hammers as they come down on the strings, the pedal beneath his feet.

“Can I have an A?” Rey asks, interrupting his momentary reverie.

“Of course,” he says immediately, hitting the appropriate key on the piano.

When she’s done, she nods to him and he takes to his own little warmup, a few scales, a few arpeggios. His eyes don’t leave hers as he does so, and he watches her mouth form a little “o” as she stares back at him.

“The acoustics in here,” she murmurs.

“I know.”

“Of course you do,” she says with a small laugh. “Do you practice here much?”

“All the time. I…” He glances around the room. “I very much prefer it to practicing on Snoke’s stage.”

“We should have started _here_.”

“Snoke wouldn’t allow it.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he cringes. He doesn’t need her to speak to know what she’s thinking, and he’s thankful she doesn’t say the words that surely must be on the tip of her tongue.

“Let’s just…get to rehearsal?” she offers up and be breathes a sigh of relief.

“Yes…that sounds…good.”

“The Respighi first? As a bit of a warm-up?” There’s a small bit of amusement behind the words.

“Oh yes indeed. Quite the warm-up.” He launches into the opening and is not surprised to see her immediately jump in. Her eyes are closed. She knows this piece, knows it like she was born somewhere within the notes and cadences, among the dynamics and arpeggios and the crash of the piano underneath and around her sound.

He knows it too, and so he watches her as he plays, watches the way she sways into the notes, the way her brow furrows during a particularly difficult passage. Watches her smile as their sounds meld together, piano and violin becoming one voice.

And in that moment, he can _feel_ her, feel every emotion and every bit of her presence, here in his house, in his room, inside _him_ somehow.

It’s exhilarating.

And unnerving.

His hand slips. Just a little, but it’s enough for Rey’s eyes to shoot to his, enough for her back to stiffen as she tries to hold onto the music.

It’s not enough.

His hand slips again and then he releases it, brings his fist down on the piano. _Hard_.

Rey stops.

She’s breathing hard. He is too. And his eyes are locked on hers, hers on his.

Almost as one, they release a breath. And he really wishes he knew what on earth just happened, what on earth _is_ happening. It seems that every moment with her is rife with tension, with emotions he’s not sure he’s ready to face.

* * *

Rey lets the hand holding her bow drop, the one holding her fiddle hovers over it for a moment before removing it from under her chin. She’s not sure if she should make another movement. Ben is still staring at her, his eyes wide and dark. From a few feet away, they almost look black.

He swallows hard.

She takes a breath.

“Ben?” she finally asks. She can hear Kylo shift, and the dog offers up a small whine.

Ben says nothing.

She repeats his name. “What was that?” she asks.

“I…” He clears his throat. “Can we just get back to rehearsal?”

She knows she should just shake it off, agree that it’s for the best. But there’s something in the way he’s looking at her, the way his fist is clenched on his thigh. She can’t quite shake the feeling that there’s more here than she really understands.

It’s not Snoke.

She’s sure of it.

But it may be _her_.

“No,” she says, takes a step closer. He pushes slightly away on the piano bench as his eyes come up to meet hers. She sets her violin down on top of the piano, the bow resting next to it, and then turns back to him. “Ben, what’s going on?” She holds up a hand. “Don’t tell me it’s Snoke.”

“I…it’s…” He’s watching her like a wary animal, a stray dog who’s been kicked one too many times.

She reaches out a hand and touches him on the shoulder. It’s just a light touch, barely a brush, but he pulls back like he’s been shocked. “Rey,” he says, her name coming out on a rush.

“For someone who has no issues with models hanging all over him, you sure hate to be touched by me.” She doesn’t mean for the bit of hurt to weave into the words, but it’s there anyway, and she feels somewhat laid bare by it.

“I do,” is all he says.

“You do…have issues with me touching you?”

“With anyone.” The words are pulled from him almost like he didn’t mean for it to happen. She can see the way he closes up quickly, shifts, looks away from her.

“I..” she starts to say. “Oh…” She squats down next to him and puts her hand on the piano bench. Close to him. She can feel the heat coming off his thigh. But she’s not touching him. He seems to sway a little toward her before he pulls back. His eyes are wide as they meet hers. “Ben, what is going on?”

“Rey,” he murmurs. One of his hands comes up, almost like he’s going to reach out to touch _her_. But then it drops to his side.

“It’s okay,” she hears herself saying before she can take the words back. “You can touch me. I promise I don’t bite.” The latter is said with a smile, a little levity. But it has no effect on him. He doesn’t smile.

He _never_ smiles.

And she finds at that moment she really wants to see him smile.

“I can…” The words cut off, and he swallows hard again. The hand that he brings up toward her is shaking slightly, and absolutely _none_ of this makes sense. She’s seen him with those women, suave and confident, whispering sweet nothings in their ears, making his exits with them clinging to his arm. She’s _seen_ it with her own two eyes, has read the tabloids about his exploits. Kylo Ren the playboy, Kylo Ren the heartbreaker. Models discarded without so much as a by your leave, actresses crying about their breakup after such a short relationship. He’s everything and he knows it.

But here, as his hand moves toward her, as he cups her jaw and his thumb moves across her cheek, he’s shaking. As if touch is something completely foreign to him.

He does nothing else, just runs his thumb back and forth across her cheek. His eyes close as he does so, and she leans into the touch. When his thumb brushes across her lower lip, her lips part in surprise. His eyes fly open and from this close she can see that his pupils are blown wide.

He murmurs her name, and she doesn’t know why she does it exactly. But she wraps her lips around his thumb and pulls it into her mouth, laving it with her tongue.

He gasps.

And his hand tightens just a little on her jaw. But he doesn’t move his it away. He lets her suck at his thumb, lets her nip at it, scraping her teeth across the sensitive pad. He doesn’t look away from her, and it takes her a moment to realize his whole body is shivering.

She releases his thumb. “Do you…do you want me to stop?”

He takes a shaky breath.

Then another.

“I…” He clears his throat. “I don’t know.”

They stare at each other for another moment, before Rey moves up and presses her lips to his. It’s a soft kiss, over almost before it starts. But she feels relief that he kisses her back for that moment. When she draws back, his eyes are closed, his lips, plush and a little wet, are parted.

“So rehearsal?” Rey just barely manages to get out.

A furrow forms between his brows, and the hand still on her jaw tightens a little for a moment. His eyes flit down to her lips and she almost thinks he’s going to kiss her. She leans just a little toward him.

But then he stiffens and pulls back, his hand sliding off and immediately going to the keys of the piano. She watches as he runs his hand back and forth across them, not pressing the keys in, not making any sound, like it’s a nervous tic.

Her face feels strangely cold without his touch, and she sways a little, dizzy, as she stands back up.

“I’m sorry,” she hears him mutter. “I shouldn’t have…”

“You didn’t.” The words are soft. “I did.”

He doesn’t look at her, his hand still moving softly over the piano keys. Up across the white keys, back down across the black, over and over.

“I suppose you did,” he finally says, and she almost sees a small curve to the side of his mouth before he frowns again.

“Maybe I should apologize…” Her voice trails off. She doesn’t want to apologize. She _wanted_ it, and she’s pretty sure he did too. She really has no idea what any of this means, what his reaction to this means. He’s a playboy, women hanging off him at any turn. This should mean nothing. But this is so _different_. _He_ is so different. And she has no idea what to think.

Who is he really? Ben Solo? This strange combination of passion and shyness, the man who _shakes_ at a mere touch.

Or Kylo Ren? The man with a different woman on his arm at every performance, the one the tabloids describe as a heartbreaker and playboy.

She’s not sure anymore. She thought she knew; she was _sure_ she knew when she walked into her audition. He’d seemed arrogant, prickly, but then their sounds had melded together, and everything had started to change.

“Don’t,” he finally says, and she watches as a shiver goes through his whole body. “Maybe…yes…” He clears his throat. “Rehearsal. I think that’s for the best.”

She steps over and picks up her violin, her eyes still watching Ben. This time he does play a few scales, almost like he’s trying to reset the rehearsal. Start over, _forget_ everything that just happened. But she can’t, and so she returns to her place feeling worried, and more than a little unnerved by it all.

“The Shostakovich?” she asks. It’s another monster of a work, and they have it mostly down. It could use some work. Everything could, really. But this one seems to be the best choice at the moment. The angular melody, the dissonance, there was nothing romantic about it. It’s ultimately not her favorite work, but it’s an important one.

Ben nods and launches into the opening piano line. She’s in a moment later, her melody quiet, a little languid, but very much an unlovely sort of thing. It takes so much of her concentration that she finds her mind drifting away from everything they just shared, from the enigma that is Ben Solo. It’s for the best, really. She’s afraid another attempt at the Respighi would result in disaster. She’s afraid the Beethoven may be more than either of them can handle in their somewhat fragile states.

They’re laid bare here, even among the stark lines of Shostakovich’s only Violin Sonata. Their connection alive, but muted, intertwining lines of darkness and angst. She throws herself into it, body and soul, and feels Ben meet her beneath it.

When he takes over the melody, her double and triple stops providing the canvas that he can paint on, she lets go a little, her body swaying in time with the rhythms. She doesn’t dare meet his eyes, even when they need to hit their mark exactly. She can feel _his_ eyes on her though, and so she leads with the violin, her eyes averted, letting him follow the movement of her instrument instead of trying to communicate things with her eyes.

When they finish the first movement, neither says a word.

“That was…”

“…dull,” she finishes with.

“Indeed,” he murmurs. “It was…acceptable, I suppose.”

She scoffs at that. It was like all the passion in their playing had been simply sucked out of them. _Disconnected_ , she thinks. Listless and bland, their performance of it was no better than a first year’s.

“Again?” he asks.

Rey sighs and retreats to one of the nearby chairs, folding herself into it so her chin can rest on her knee. “What just happened to us, Ben?” she asks.

“I…” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You?” The word comes out of her with more force than intended. “I’m pretty sure it was me. Maybe I crossed a line…”

“Maybe you did,” he shoots back with and Rey feels her face turn red.

“I guess I just thought…no, nevermind.” She stands then and retreats to her case.

“What are you doing?”

“I think the rehearsal is over,” she points out.

“We still have more to cover.”

Rey just shakes her head. “Not today, I don’t think. Send me an e-mail when you want to reschedule.” She throws her case over her shoulder and stoops down to scratch Kylo behind the ears. At least _he_ still makes some sense.

She’s almost to the door of his music room when he says her name. It’s a strange, almost broken thing. She turns back briefly. “Ben, we’ll talk later.”

“What about dinner?”

His voice sounds strangely…needy, she thinks. Like he’s desperate to keep her there. She doesn’t understand it. She can’t _pretend_ to understand it. She might have made the first move, might have been the one to put her hand on his leg, to press her lips to his, but he kissed her back. He had been as involved as she had been. She might have touched his shoulder, might turned the whole thing erotic, but he hadn’t pushed her away, hadn’t refused. And she could _see_ the way his pupils were blown wide.

He was attracted to her.

She’d suspected it for some time, and she certainly shared the attraction. But there’s just something… _off_ …there. Something she wasn’t seeing. As she walks out the door, shutting it quietly behind her, she shivers a little. She’ll figure it out. She has to, if they’re going to continue to work together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this got a little angsty!


	15. Confessions

She doesn’t hear from him for three days. She’s not sure what to think of that, really, so she spends her time practicing and checking her phone for messages at an alarmingly constant rate. When his e-mail finally comes, it’s not what she expects at all.

She refreshes the e-mail a couple times, looking for _more_. But there’s nothing to be had there. No subject, no signature.

Her message to him is sent almost as soon as she realizes that was all he meant to send.

She stares at the screen for a bit, nibbling at her thumbnail, an annoying nervous habit that Finn used to yell at her about. Plutt used to dip her finger in disgustingly toxic things to get her to stop. And so a part of her does it now both out of habit and as a sort of protest of all her years under Plutt’s thumb.

Does she dare send it? Admit to something she barely wants to admit to herself? But the truth is there, plain as day. She wouldn’t have made that move if there wasn’t an intense attraction there. And _more_ , she wouldn’t have made such a move if she didn’t believe he felt the same.

He does.

She’s sure of it.

But if he’s not comfortable, if he wants to cut that part of it off, she will.

She finally hits send and then gets up to do _something_. Maybe clean her room. It’s a bit of a disaster, as it tends to be. She’s still a college kid at heart, still the kid who says _this is my space now, I’ll do with it as I want_. A good cleaning ought to get her mind off of things.

* * *

 _Oh_.

He's staring at the message she’s sent.

 _I’m attracted to you_.

He reads the sentence.

Then reads it again.

It’s like the words don’t quite make sense on the first few readings. No one is attracted to Ben Solo. Kylo Ren, certainly. There are scores of women who find Kylo, in all his aloof suaveness, attractive. But they’re only attracted to a persona. Kylo is confident, seems to know what to say, even if he’s just drawing those words out of books, movies, and from watching his father all these years.

He's paid attention, after all. And his father knows how to charm the ladies. He’d certainly charmed his mother. But he’s seen him in interviews, backstage documentaries, heard the words he’s said and somehow ingrained them deep inside him to use when needed.

But Rey knows _him_.

She’s seen through the Kylo Ren and found the Ben Solo behind him. She knows his dog, and it’s pretty clear she sees that the _real_ Kylo is just a silly, shaggy mutt, the one creature on this earth who doesn’t seem to judge him, who loves him unconditionally. If he’s had a bad day, Kylo doesn’t care. He’s there with a tennis ball in his mouth and a wiggly dance of excitement.

And clearly the dog adores Rey already.

 _You are so fucked, my boy_.

He has no idea how to respond to her message. He’s _terrified_ to respond. He’ll say the wrong thing, push her away or maybe pull her closer. Both are such scary prospects that he probably spends far too much time staring at the message, yanking at his hair, and pacing his study.

 _I’m attracted to you too_.

There.

He can admit it to himself at least, can’t he?

The words won’t come though. He types them, erases them, types something else.

 _~~Yes, I feel it too~~ _ _._

_~~Let’s just get back to rehearsals.~~ _

_~~Yes we can be friends.~~ _

_~~I can’t deal with this.~~ _

_~~Fuck.~~ _

Every word backspaced. E-mail deleted.

He opens another.

He hits send and then sits back, leaning his head against the back his chair. He can feel the headache coming on. He has no idea what else to say. He’s not good with people in general. He’s _definitely_ not good with women.

More than that, he’s not good with _Rey_. Because the fact that even now, his traitorous cock twitches in his pants just a little when he reads that she’s attracted to him, tells him all too clearly that her attraction is in fact _not_ one-sided.

And he has no fucking clue what to do with that.

Because it’s not something he’s felt before. Ever. And he has no idea what to do with it, really. One of his hands settles in his lap as he re-reads her message.

 _I’m attracted to you_.

The words go round and round in his head as he palms himself. His cock twitches, hardens even more, and he lets out a groan.

This is wrong.

It has to be.

 _I’m attracted to you_.

And yet he’s standing and moving to his bathroom before he can even contemplate what he’s doing. He throws on the shower and for a moment contemplates putting it on cold, but then doesn’t. Instead, he turns the heat up, holds his hand under it until it’s at the temperature he likes. Hot, but not scalding. It usually soothes him, but today he’s not looking to be soothed.

 _I’m attracted to you_.

He pulls of his clothes quickly, his cock springing free as he shoves his pants and underwear to the ground. The heat of the shower hits him the moment he steps in and he just stands there for a moment, letting it soak his hair, race in rivulets down the skin of his chest.

And only then, after he’s stood there, breathing deeply through his nose, eyes screwed shut, does he take himself in hand.

He won’t think of her.

And yet he does. Of course he does. Because there’s _no one else_. There’s never _been_ anyone else. He’s never thought to masturbate to any of the models Snoke makes him take to the after parties, there was no one in college or the years since that he felt this level of attraction to, no one he felt so _connected_ to.

So of course it’s her.

He thinks of her, standing near the piano, _his_ piano _,_ imagines her setting her violin down. Just like she did when she was there, lovingly caressing it as she sets it carefully on top of the piano. He watches her hands and wonders what they’d feel like on him, stroking him, wrapping around his cock.

He sees her step toward him, lean over him. And then she’s kissing him. Like before. But… _more_. His mouth opens beneath her, her tongue dipping in to claim his. He doesn’t move his hands, lets her take the lead.

It’s all so…

So…

He’s not sure.

It’s something. When her hand presses to his jaw, when she nips at his lower lip, he squeezes himself and then it’s over.

Too fast.

He comes with a shout, head pressed against the cool tiles of his shower.

 _Fuck_.

 _I’m sorry, Rey_.

As he lets the water of the shower flush away his shame, he just keeps murmuring that over and over again. _I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…_

There are moments he hates himself, some more than others. If he’s going to be totally honest, he hates himself far more often than not. In that moment, he feels the worst kind of lecher, lusting after someone who is supposed to be a professional contact, his musical partner. And all he wants to do is carry her off to his room and fuck her.

No.

He wants to make love to her.

That scares him more than anything.

He’s in way too deep. And he doesn’t know how to work his way out of it.

And worst of all, he’s not sure he _wants_ to.

* * *

“Pick up pick up pick up,” Rey mutters as the phone continues to ring. Two, three, four times…She knows two more and it’ll roll right to voicemail. “Come on…”

“Hey Rey.”

 _Oh thank God_.

“Rose!” The word comes out on almost a squeak.

“Oh girl, what have you done?” There’s amusement lacing Rose’s voice.

“You know me way too well,” Rey points out. “You know that, right?”

There’s silence for a moment, then – “So you really fucked up this time, huh?”

Rey leans back against her bed. “I don’t know? Maybe?”

She can hear Rose sigh on her end of the phone. “Is this an ice cream and Oreo cookie night?”

Rey wants to tell her no, wants to tell her to forget it. But Rose is one of her best friends, certainly her best female friend. If anyone could understand matters of the heart, it would be her.

 _Matters of the heart?_ Now it’s Rey’s turn to sigh. “Yeah,” she finally says. “I think it is.”

“Give me 30 minutes,” Rose says and the line goes dead.

* * *

Rey spends the next thirty minutes half in a panic. She alternates between trying to clean up her room a bit and wondering just what the fuck is going on, what she’s going to say to Rose. What does she feel for Ben? She’s not even sure anymore. Her experience with relationships is so limited that thoughts of… _no_ …she’s not going to _there_.

 _Don’t look too closely. It’s easier that way_.

Rose shows up 32 minutes after she hung up the phone. Rey’s been watching for her and she throws the door open before she can even knock. No sense waking up Skywalker at this late hour. She’s not even sure how she’d explain her current predicament.

“Ice cream,” Rose says, holding up one bag. “And Oreos!” She laughs then. “I got milk too. I figured I’d hit all the important bases.”

“No cheese or wine?”

Rose looks a little crestfallen. “You didn’t…”

“I’m kidding,” Rey says, stepping back and waving Rose in.

“Straight up to your room?”

“Yeah. I don’t…I can’t risk having Dr. Skywalker stumble in on our discussion.”

“Ooo,” Rose says. “This is going to get _good_ , isn’t it?”

Rey doesn’t say anything else until they’re inside her room and the door is shut. Rose is opening the ice cream and dishing some of it into the bowls that Rey has already brought to the room, when Rey just blurts it out. “I kissed him.”

Rose whips around. “Kissed…Kylo Ren?” At Rey’s nod, her eyes widen. “You kissed Kylo Ren? I mean…do you _know_ where those lips have been?” She clamps her hands over her mouth. “Sorry, Rey,” she manages to get out between her fingers.

“Yeah, I know.” Rey sighs. “Sit down, Rose. Don’t take a bite of your ice cream for a moment, okay?”

“What about the Oreos?”

“ _Rose_.”

“Fine, fine.” She narrows her eyes. “Oh God, did you sleep with him too?”

“What? No…”

“But you _want_ to.”

“No,” Rey says quickly, and then – “Okay, maybe. But there are things you don’t know.”

“That sounds serious.”

“Kylo Ren…” Rey takes a deep breath. “He’s Luke Skywalker’s nephew.”

Rose doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at her. “His…I didn’t know he had a nephew.”

Rey shakes her head. “Neither did I. When I went to him in the hospital, I found out who he was, found out his _real_ name.”

“Not Kylo Ren?” Rose asks, and there’s an amused smirk on her face.

“Kylo is the dog.”

“The…”

“Dog, yeah. The one I went to take care of? The reason I wouldn’t let you and Finn come with me? Kylo is some retriever mix.” It sounds ridiculous when she says it out loud, but there it is. Kylo Ren is a construct. Kylo is a _dog_. Ben Solo is a complete enigma.

“Wow.” Rose dips her spoon into her ice cream and takes a big bite. Her eyes cross a little and Rey can hear her murmur something like _ice cream headache_ before managing to swallow it. “So who is he? Besides Skywalker’s nephew, I mean.”

“His name is Ben Solo.”

She waits a moment for it all to catch up to Rose. Everyone knows Leia Organa. Everyone knows Han Solo. And _most_ people know they’re married. It shouldn’t take too much to extrapolate just who _Ben_ Solo is.

“Oh my God,” Rose says. “No. You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.”

“Kylo Ren. He’s…Leia Organa’s son? There were so many rumors about him…” She trails off there and Rey watches as she seems to reach inward. “He used to go here, you know? To Ahch-to?”

“I know,” Rey offers up softly.

“And then one day he just…I don’t know. They say he lost it, stormed out, and never looked back.” Rose looks back up at Rey, meets her eyes. “Has his uncle talked to him at all?”

Rey shakes her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. He’s pretty tight-lipped about all of that.” Is this where she confesses she still doesn’t really know him, even though there’s a part of her that _knows_ him? It’s not just attraction. She knows that much. There’s a connection there, a sort of curiosity between them that she can’t quite manage let go of even if she feels like she should.

It was so simple in the beginning.

Rehearse.

Play a concert.

Get your check.

Rinse and repeat.

Now there’s all these… _feelings_ …things she doesn’t want to define, doesn’t want to really face. _And why did you bring Rose over here anyway?_

“So speaking of tight lips,” Rose says and wiggles her eyebrows at her.

Rey groans.

“Come on. You led in with that. You can’t just let that go now.” Rose slides closer to her, pushes some of the Oreos her way. “So what was it like?”

She closes her eyes. How does she describe it? “Soft,” she finally says. “It was almost over before it started. But his lips…” She presses her hand to her own lips. “They’re soft. I…I don’t know what else to say.”

She had expected something so different. She had expected him to take her up on the invitation, plunder her mouth with his tongue, take her to his bed. She expected passion. Instead she had gotten the softest kiss she’d ever experienced. And a whole lot of confusion.

Rey shakes her head, blinks her eyes, and finds Rose watching her with a strange look on her face.

“And that’s it?” Rose asks.

Rey nods.

“I mean…didn’t he…like fuck you or anything?”

Rey makes a snorting noise. “Hardly. He seemed weirdly dumbfounded and almost confused over it. I can’t even describe it, really. It was a complete disaster.” She drops her head down onto the table.

“It couldn’t be that bad,” Rose assures her.

Rey glances up at her, keeping her chin glued to the table for the moment. “Oh yes. It could. And it was.” She sighs. “Okay, so I don’t even know how it happened, but I ended up like _sucking_ his thumb.”

Rose chokes on the sip of her drink she had just taken before Rey confessed that little tidbit. “How the…”

“I don’t know. Things got tense. He put his hand on my jaw. And I…just did it.” She has no idea what had gotten into her. They were just _there_ and it felt so natural to take it to another level. The tension had certainly been there since the beginning. She hadn’t seen it for what it was right away, but she knows now. She wants him. And she suspects he wants her too. She’d seen his pupils, had seen the way his lips were parted and the awed look on his face after they kissed.

 _None of it made sense_.

He’d been with so many. She knows this. She’s _seen_ all the evidence of it she needs to see. But when it came to her, he’d backed off, retreated. He’d been almost adorably awkward about it all, and so she’d felt the need to try to bury them in work.

“And then he kissed you?” Rose asks.

“No. I kissed _him_.”

“Wow. That’s…”

“Unexpected?”

Rose snorts. “Just a little. I mean…maybe it’s because you’re technically coworkers? Maybe he’s afraid of fucking all of that up. If you guys play as well together as you say, he might fear screwing it up.”

Rey nods. “We had a disastrous rehearsal after the kiss. He seemed to waver? I guess…between seeming like he wanted to say something else and blaming me for it.”

“Blaming you?”

“Maybe those weren’t the right words. The whole thing was just strange.” And that’s all she can come up with. There’s something _missing_ there, some vital piece of the puzzle that she’s just not seeing. There’s the whole fall and concussion, of course. There’s no doubt that there’s something off about that. But there’s more. The way he doesn’t want her close, the way he shakes a little when she _does_ gets too close.

It doesn’t jive.

Maybe that’s the word she’s looking for.

Kylo Ren is the bad boy of the classical world. He sleeps around. He has the most beautiful women at his disposal and he goes through them like tissues.

Ben Solo she just cannot figure out.

“It gets worse,” Rey admits.

“Worse? I need more ice cream for this one.”

“I told him I was attracted to him…in an e-mail.” Even she cringes at the last bit. She still has no idea what she was thinking there. _A common thread these days, Rey._ “And he basically shot me down.”

“He’s not attracted to you?” Rose is stating at her with wide eyes. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“I don’t think it’s that.” She _knows_ it’s not that. She’s sure of it. “He told me he wasn’t good with this sort of thing and…I never wrote back.” She cringes at that. She knows she needs to. She knows she has to address the whole thing, get back to rehearsals. _Let it go_.

Rose looks contemplative for a moment. “I don’t know, Rey. This whole thing. There’s something really strange about it. It sounds like he’s almost unsure of himself with you.”

“He is,” Rey says. “I think. It doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t. But maybe… I don’t know,” she says, throwing her hands up in the air. “Maybe we’ve misjudged him. Or maybe we just don’t really know him.”

Rey wants to tell her how true that is. Something holds her back though, some tiny bit of protectiveness. _He shakes when I come close. He stammers. He can’t meet my eyes_. And so she just nods. “Maybe,” she says at last.

Maybe she _needs_ to get to know him.

Maybe she really _wants_ to.

 _What a fucking mess_ …

* * *

He paces for what feels like hours, waiting for some response from Rey. He feels like the most disgusting of men, lusting after his musical partner, getting off in the shower to images of her kissing him.

He has nothing else to really use. He’s seen the occasional porno flick. Of course he has. They did little for him, made his cock hard and made him feel like a complete lecher. But there was nothing else. No emotions, no real _desire_. Just biology. That’s all.

But with Rey, there’s _more_. He wants to see her spread out on his bed, wants to touch every bit of her skin, wrap her around him, make her scream his name when she comes. He wants to hold her close as he thrusts into her body and feel her gasp his name as he comes inside her.

He's the worst person.

He knows this.

Still, he paces, waiting for her last response.

It doesn’t come for hours and when it does, it makes him feel cold, despondent.

He’s well and truly fucked up, but he doesn’t know where to go from here, isn’t sure what to say. Offer dinner again? Apologize?

And the worst thing about the message is how long it took him to figure out what to write.

 _This is why you don’t do relationships, Ben_.

He really never will be his father’s son, and as he crawls into his bed that night, he’s never felt quite so alone.


	16. The Performance

She can’t say things have been going exactly _well_. They don’t talk much. They rehearse. She goes home. Sometimes Ben has this look in his eyes that she can’t quite interpret. Eyes wide, fringed by those lovely eyelashes of his. He looks like he wants to say _something_ , but nothing comes out.

She pets Kylo. The _real_ Kylo.

She brings him treats.

She and Ben talk about the music, they rehearse. They work well together, despite the obvious tension. It’s never addressed. Not during their next few rehearsals, but she catches him watching her sometimes, a slight furrow between his brows.

When she walks into their final rehearsal on stage at the Snoke Enterprises auditorium, she feels, if not confident, at least mostly ready for this. She is _not_ ready to face Snoke, and seeing him standing so close to the stage, clutching his cane and grinning, sets her on edge.

She hates him.

And she’s never hated anyone before.

She can feel the loathing work its way up her spine until she pauses in her walk toward the stage and shivers. Snoke’s smile broadens even more, like a weasel just awaiting its prey. “Welcome, young Rey,” he says.

She stops to glare at him for a moment. “Good afternoon,” she manages to grate out.

He offers up a harsh laugh. “I hear your rehearsals are going well.”

“Well enough,” she says, glancing at the stage. “Where’s…” Here she hesitates, bites back the next word. _Ben_ … _he can’t know I call him Ben_. “Where’s Kylo?”

Snoke’s eyes narrow on her, and then the look dissipates. Almost like it wasn’t there to begin with. “He’s up at my office taking care of a few last-minute things.”

“Things?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty…well, that’s not quite the right word is it?” The last is murmured with a slight edge to the words. “Nothing you need to worry your plain little head about,” he finally finishes.

He smirks, the evil grin of the Grinch as he waits for Whoville to wake up and find out just what he’s done.

“You think your opinion of my looks matters to me?” Rey shoots back with. “Do you think I haven’t been called names before?” She takes a step toward him. “I’m not afraid of you,” she says as she leans closer to him. He’s taller than her, but not terribly tall. His body is stooped and he leans heavily on his cane as he continues to watch her. His smirk never falters. “I’ll _never_ be afraid of you.”

He says nothing for a moment, just watches her. “You should be,” he finally says. “Displease me and I could have your whole career.”

Rey crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “You’re not everything, Snoke,” she says after a moment. “And in the end, the good people will win.” She takes another step toward him. “You won’t take my music from me.”

“We shall see.”

“Okay sorry I’m late!” comes Ben’s voice from behind her, and she takes in a deep breath. When she turns to meet his eyes, she sees him watching her with a bit of a furrow between his brow. “Everything alright here?”

“Fine,” Rey mutters.

“I was just telling your little violinist here that if she pulls any tricks the night of the concert like she did at rehearsal, I’ll have her head.”

She wants to shoot something back, wants to tell him to kiss her ass, but instead she simply turns on her heel and storms up the steps to the stage. “Let’s run this program,” she tosses over her shoulder.

There’s silence for a moment, and then she hears Ben’s heavy footsteps on the stairs behind her. He says nothing more as he moves to the piano to begin his preparation ritual at the same time she begins her own.

Snoke, thankfully, is blessedly silent as they do so. _This is it_ , she thinks. The final rehearsal, their moment to show Snoke what they’re made of.

* * *

The rehearsal goes terribly. Of course it does. Ben can see it start to unravel right from the opening notes of the Respighi. They’re usually together on this one, easily playing off each other, the music bouncing back and forth organically. But not this time. This time each moment feels like they’re trying to wrest the piece under their control.

At the end of it, he’s left breathing hard, but not from exhilaration.

From concern.

From worry.

From _terror_.

He looks at Snoke, who’s sitting in the front row, hand resting on his cane and leaning forward with a knowing smirk on his face.

It’s his presence causing this. He has no doubt of it. He wishes he could pretend he doesn’t understand where Rey is coming from. He wishes he could soothe her, hold her close, tell her that Snoke doesn’t matter.

But he _does_ matter. He has to. And he hates it. Every bit of him wants to protect her, protect himself as well. Every bit of him wants to squash Snoke beneath his bootheel. But instead he’s beholden to him, forced to lap at his feet like a dog, brought to heel or tossed aside like so much chattel.

Snoke says nothing, though Ben’s not sure if that’s truly merciful. He just waves his hand to tell them to go on.

With a nod, Ben turns back to Rey. “You ready?” The words are soft, but he watches as she tenses, her shoulders pulling in and up just slightly.

“Yes,” she finally says, putting her bow up to the violin. He doesn’t start right away, watches her for a moment. Her hand trembles a little and a shiver traces up her spine, but she nods firmly.

“Good,” he says.

The rest doesn’t go much better. They’re together at least. They play off of each other. But it’s dull, strangely lifeless. There’s a tension there, in every movement of his fingers, in every movement of her bow. It’s one of the roughest run-throughs they’ve had.

But they make it.

At the end, Rey drops her bow and violin to the side and turns toward him. Ben nods.

And then all is silence. Snoke stands, makes his way closer to the stage. “You’re not ready,” he says.

Ben isn’t sure what to say. Rey is watching him, and he feels naked under the intensity of her gaze. “We are,” he finally manages to say.

“You…” Snoke starts to say, but Rey cuts him off.

“A bad dress rehearsal means a good concert.”

Snoke scoffs. “That old superstition?”

Rey shrugs. “We’ll be fine.” Ben can’t quite decide if she really believes it or she’s just angry enough at Snoke to not care what she says.

Snoke doesn’t take his eyes off Rey, and Ben can see the wheels turning in his head. He wants her gone and with how much they clearly hate each other, he’s frankly surprised she’s still here. _He wants you to fail_ , creeps in the insidious thought. _He wants an excuse to ruin you, to destroy you_.

Ben finally nods and turns to pack up his stuff.

He doesn’t know where these thoughts are coming from, can’t imagine why he would feel that way. But they’re there, deep inside him just clamoring to get out. He knows there’s a truth there, knows it all the way deep down in his soul.

Snoke watches her for another moment, eyes narrowed, cold, and then he finally smiles. “Yes, well, then…I suppose if you think so, you know best.” He turns then and walks away.

And Ben is pretty sure that Snoke doesn’t believe that for a moment.

* * *

Backstage before a concert is always a busy and somewhat frantic place. Sound engineers with their recording equipment, lighting experts, the head of the organization sponsoring the concert waiting to step onstage and welcome the audience. And probably sell something too. They’re usually trying to sell _something_ , especially since Snoke is involved and he Rey is pretty sure he likes nothing more than lining his own pockets with cash.

This feels…more, somehow. Rey stands off in a corner alone, violin under her chin as she carefully tunes each string, then tunes them again.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve adjusted the strings.”

Her head shoots up and her eyes lock on Ben. He looks…kind, she realizes. There’s a softness to his mouth and a warmth to his eyes.

She takes a deep breath. “Yes,” she murmurs. “I suppose it is.” She shakes her head then and tries to smile.

“Nervous?”

“Hmmm…no.” And then she lets out a soft huff of laughter. “Terrified is more like it.”

He nods at that. “I was, too. Before. I suppose there’s still a bit of it there in me, but…” He shrugs.

“No more?”

“It’s an act,” he says in response. “You realize that, don’t you? Go out there, shoulders back and squared, convince the audience that they’re lucky to be there, to hear what we have to offer.” He starts to reach out a hand, almost settles it on her shoulder, before drawing back. “Remember you’re not _you_ out there. I’m not…well…I’m Kylo Ren. I know my part. I give them the show they expect.”

It takes her a moment to realize he’s wearing the opera cloak and black leather gloves she’s seen him wear at the concerts she’s gone to. He’ll make a good show of taking off the cloak, of peeling the gloves from his hands. He does it for _them_ she realizes. It’s not him. It’s just a part of the performance, part of becoming Kylo Ren and not Ben Solo.

“We didn’t pick a stage name for me.”

He shrugs. “No, not exactly. You’re listed only as Rey in the program.”

She laughs. “Like Cher?”

“Something like that. They’ll wonder who you are, where you come from. Are you related to me? Are you my paramour? It gets them talking and is almost as much a part of the performance as the music itself.”

She just shakes her head. “This is the crap that Snoke is selling them. All smoke and mirrors. The only thing that should matter is the _music_.” She’s passionate about that. The music is all. It’s _the_ thing, the only important part. The rest is just schlock that could be pared away. “We should be able to perform in our pajamas and the concert should be just as amazing.”

He's watching her with a small half-smile on his face. He says nothing else and so she cocks her head to the side.

“What?” she asks.

He shrugs. “I’m not sure that would go over so well with the audience.”

She smirks. “Can you imagine the look on Snoke’s face?”

He sucks in a breath and chokes for a second.

“Right?” she asks. “Just think about it. His eyes bugging out and all that anger. He might die of a heart attack right then and there.”

“That would ruin the performance,” Ben responds with. And when he turns to look at her, his eyes are wide in a rather overexaggerated way.

“Are you sure? The audience might consider it our best performance.” And then she laughs. It feels _good_ to laugh, here right before they go out on stage for the first time together.

The look on Ben’s face is one she can only describe as fascinating. One corner of his mouth twitches a little, one of his eyes twitches. He wrinkles his nose, like he’s trying to prevent a sneeze.

But then he laughs.

A real laugh. And it completely transforms his entire face. He looks years younger, and she finds she _likes_ this version of him even more than the usual stone-faced sullen Ben she’s been getting to know. Oh, he’s passionate. To a fault almost. But there’s always something so sobering about his presence. _Fun_ does not seem to be in his vocabulary and oh, how she would like to bring that out in him more.

It takes him a moment to gather himself together, and she watches as he takes a deep breath and lets the mantle of Kylo Ren fall back over him. “Are you ready?” he asks. His voice is quiet, earnest, and she closes her eyes for a moment.

“Yes. Yes I think I am.”

“Good.”

She watches as the lights on the stage go down and Hux waltzes onto stage. He’s not a musician, she’s heard. But he likes to be around them, and he certainly has the appropriately snooty attitude so many expect of her brethren. He addresses the audience with a fake smile that she’s sure must dazzle some of them. She closes her eyes for a moment, centering herself.

_You can do this_.

As Hux finishes up his speech to the audience, Ben turns toward her and holds out his hand. She doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow as she puts her hand gently into his. His hand closes around hers, large and warm and so very powerful, squeezing gently for just a moment before releasing her.

And then he’s gone, striding off onto stage, all signs of Ben Solo gone. He’s Kylo Ren now, and every step, every movement, is calculated to entice the audience. She can only hope that she’s worthy of being on the same stage.

* * *

He doesn’t know why he took her hand, doesn’t know why that one little squeeze of her hand, feeling her squeeze back, has left him feeling a little unsettled. There are butterflies in his stomach and he knows that this performance… _this_ one single performance…could make or break them.

He can’t see Snoke from his position on the stage, something he’s always thankful for. He knows where he sits, can feel the weight of his gaze, but he can’t lock eyes with him.

Nothing changes in the opening of his routine. He removes the opera cloak and tosses it carelessly over the coat rack. It’s meant to look disdainful, like it’s nothing to him. It’s as practiced as anything else on the stage that night. He strips off his gloves carefully, placing them on the edge of the piano where they’ll sit for the entirety of the performance.

But then his routine alters. He turns toward the side of the stage and holds out his hand. This time its bare, an invitation, and Rey strides out, violin and bow clutched tightly to her chest. This is the part she finds the most nerve-wracking, he knows. Rey is used to simply coming on stage, setting up and playing.

This, though, is _theatre_.

He steps closer and she puts her hands in his. As she looks up at him, he can see her trembling just slightly. Here he’s supposed to turn toward the audience, Rey with him, and then they’ll bow and curtsy and get on with the music.

He doesn’t do that. And he breaks the moment just slightly as he leans over her hand and presses the most chaste of kisses to the back of her hand. He looks up at Rey as he’s bowed over her hand and he can see the color high on her cheeks, the wide eyes.

And then she smiles.

And together they turn toward the audience. They’re already applauding, a few on their feet at just the unexpected presence of Rey, at the kiss to her hand.

He doesn’t smile as he bows.

She smiles as she curtsied, a bright sunny thing. The complete opposite of _him_. And that’s how they’re playing this. He’s dressed in somber blacks, as he always is. It accentuates his pale skin and the hands that are a near-blur as they chase along the keys.

It took some time to decide on the appropriate outfit for Rey. They had agreed, so long ago now it seemed like another lifetime though in reality it’s only been a handful of weeks, that she would not be wearing a miniskirt. She wants to appear strong, a good complement to him, and so they’ve put her in a dress of bright purple. It’s alluring without being overly sexy, floor length to cover the fact that even now Rey refuses to wear heels, a silver band about the waist that reflects the light when she moves. It’s held up with one strap, leaving the shoulder of her bow arm bare and completely free to move.

She looks… _striking._ He’s been half in love with her since he met her, half hard whenever she comes too close. And now, standing next to her as they acknowledge the audience, her hand carefully placed in his, he thinks he’s done for.

He can’t deny his attraction to her. He can’t deny that he feels _something_ for her, a connection far beyond any he’s felt with anyone else.

It’s terrifying.

With a deep breath, he releases her and moves to his seat at the piano. Rey takes up her spot in the curve of it, raises her violin to her chin.

And then they’re off, and it feels like the entire universe, _their_ entire universe at least, is riding on this.

* * *

It’s exhilarating, Rey thinks, as they finish the Respighi. The audience is completely silent for a moment after they hit the final notes, as if they’re waiting for them to breathe, to move, to do something that tells them how to react.

She lowers the violin, and the audience goes wild, erupting into an applause she’s never heard before. Her smile is wide and happy, and she knows there’s still _so_ much more to come, but she can’t help but look over at Ben ( _Kylo_ , she reminds herself) and smile at him too.

He doesn’t smile.

She supposes that’s against the rules of Kylo Ren.

But he does nod at her, and she can see one side of his lips quirk up for just a moment. It’s not much, but it’s something. And perhaps more importantly, it’s _hers_ and hers alone.

* * *

He wants to smile. Fuck it, but he wants to. But he knows it’s not part of the contract, knows that it’s not who Kylo Ren _is_. Ben Solo might smile, might thrill with the wonder of a performance where everything just feels right. But Kylo Ren is somber, intense. He _expects_ perfection. He should expect no more here.

So she turns back to the audience, smiles at them once more, and bows her head in acknowledgement. She can see Ben shift in his seat and so she raises the violin to her chin again.

The audience quiets.

And then Ben starts with the quiet, jagged opening melody of the Shostakovich work, Rey weaving into the texture a moment later. It’s subdued compared to the ending of the Respighi, but it gives them a chance to shine together as their melodies wind around each other.

It’s not her favorite piece, but she can see why Ben picked it. It’s intense, but in a different way than anything else on the program. She can lean into this one, draw it out, and she knows that the intensity is mirrored on her face as it is on Ben’s.

She looks over at him on occasion, when they need to come in together, slow down together. They’re perfectly in sync and she can’t believe she had never played with him before. She should have been playing with him her entire life. Because _this_ is where she was meant to be.

She’s sure of it.

They finish the work, fading out on a tremolo, their eyes locked on each other as they come to the final notes. It drifts into the hall around them and the audience’s eyes remained locked on them. She can _feel_ them, but she’s not looking out into the darkness of the hall. She’s still watching Ben.

As one, they take a deep breath. His hands fall from the keys. Hers lower the violin.

The audience erupts into applause and Rey releases her breath.

It’s over.

Well, the first half at any rate. Ben stands then and steps toward her. They hadn’t talk about this, hadn’t rehearsed a mid-performance bow and leaving the stage. He steps toward her and she can see the sheen of sweat at his brows, his hair sticking a bit to the sides of his face. His lips are parted and he’s flushed, and he is so very beautiful.

She’s never thought of a man as beautiful. But this one? With his dark hair, intense eyes, those plush lips? The word seems to fit.

She smiles up at him as he once again extends a hand. They execute a perfectly timed bow and curtsy and then Ben is waving her ahead of him. She leaves the stage with her head held high, violin comfortable in her hand. She turns her head at the last minute, as the house lights come up, and she can see _him_.

Snoke.

He’s watching her with his hands steepled together and his lips pursed. As soon as their eyes meet, his face transforms into a feral smile. There is no warmth there, and Rey shivers as she steps into the darkness of backstage.

* * *

She turns to him almost as soon as they’re off and he’s surprised by the fierce hug she gives him. “That was _amazing_ ,” she says against his chest and he can feel the words down to his very soul.

“It went well,” he says and then cringes. Those weren’t the words he really wanted to say. It went more than well. It was probably the most profound experience of his life. He knew they had it in them to make a team like none other. And so far they were proving it to the entire audience.

“I think it went more than well,” she says as she pulls away.

He smiles than and is gratified to watch her falter a little, her eyes going wide for just a moment, before she smiles again. “Yes,” he finally says. “Far more than well.”

She nods and glances around the backstage area. There aren’t many milling about but she knows, she can feel his presence as he moves closer. “Snoke,” she murmurs.

“He usually comes backstage to berate me halfway through,” Ben says, as if this is a normal thing for a manager to do.

“Does he?”

He shrugs.

“Well, I’m not letting him get me down. I’ll be in my dressing room.” She turns on her heel than and he wants to reach out to her, wants to pull her back, tell her he doesn’t want to face Snoke alone.

But she’s gone before he can think of the words, before he can let them come out of his mouth. And then he hears the sound of Snoke’s cane. He doesn’t even want to turn to him. He should have escaped to his dressing room too. Not that it would have stopped Snoke. He’d barged in before whether he wanted him to or not. It’s just Snoke’s way.

“That was interesting,” Snoke murmurs as he comes closer to Ben.

“Interesting? In what way?”

“The audience seemed to like you,” Snoke says instead of answering the question.

“Yes,” Ben says. What else can he say to that, really? They had the audience hanging on every note, sitting on the edges of their seat, and waiting with baited breath for the next cadence, the next crashing crescendo.

“Good.”

“Is that all you have to say?” Ben asks, the words sharper than intended.

Snoke says nothing for a moment, but Ben can feel the anger vibrating in the air around them. Snoke doesn’t like to be challenged. He doesn’t like being reminded that Ben is the _real_ star. That grates on him for some reason and Ben has never been able to get to the bottom of it.

Jealousy, maybe, that Ben is the rock star of the classical world and Snoke is just his behind the scenes manager.

“There will be much to go over later,” Snoke demurs.

“Of course there will be.” Ben looks around himself, but there’s no one there to save him from this unnecessary conversation. “If you’ll excuse me,” he grates out. “I need to make sure I look fresh for the second half.”

“Of course,” Snoke says. “But _Kylo_?” There’s a strange sneer to the name, as if Ben will forget who he really _is_ if Snoke doesn’t remind him. “Let’s not slobber all over the girl this time, shall we? She’s your musical partner, not your lover. The audience doesn’t need to see your obvious lust for the chit.”

Ben stares at him for a moment, and then turns on his heel and rushes out of the backstage area. The last thing he needs is to have a conversation with Snoke about his _obvious lust_.

_It’s more than that, Ben, old buddy…and you know it_ …

He pushes the whole thing away. He has the rest of the concert to do.

* * *

Rey is thankful that when she returns, Snoke is gone. But she can see how shaken Ben is. “Are you okay?” she asks as she draws near him.

He startles, and his head comes up, his eyes meeting hers. “I’m…” He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

She nods.

Hux strides past them a moment later, pausing to turn back. “Are you ready?” Rey really hates the way every word that comes out of his mouth is a sneer. He’s most unpleasant, but Ben seems to deal well enough with him,

Ben only offers Hux a curt nod and then Hux is walking onto stage to announce a car with its lights on in the parking lot and a reminder that there is a gathering to celebrate their newfound partnership that is open to all VIPs and of the theatre.

And then Ben is walking onto the stage. Alone, this time. This is his part of the concert. Rey steps a little closer to the edge of the stage. She can almost see Snoke there, through the dimming house lights. The entire audience erupts into applause, but Snoke stays still, his snake-like gaze on Ben.

She watches as Ben crashes his way through the Rachmaninoff Preludes that he’s chosen. The dark C-sharp minor prelude, the G-sharp minor one, roiling with sinister emotions. There’s no reprieve, and it still bothers her, that there’s nothing _light_ out there. It’s like peering through the dark, only to find yourself looking into an equally dark room.

When Ben stands at the end, one hand lightly resting on the piano, she takes a deep breath. One more work, one more performance with Ben. She waits for him to turn toward her, and then he crooks a finger. She moves immediately to step out of the shadows, her light, flowing dress moving easily around her feet as she strides across the stage.

She shoots a glance at Snoke, tilts her chin, and allows Ben to take her hand once again. It’s a light touch this time, no brushing of his lips across her knuckles. He just takes her hand and brings it halfway to him, and then lets it go.

She’s not sure what that’s about.

It’s not like they rehearsed such things, but there’s a strange intensity in his eyes as he does it, and she watches his eye flit once, then again, out to the audience. Out to _Snoke_.

The Beethoven performance is the one she’s been concerned about the entire time. It’s intense. It’s long. It’s a complete powerhouse of a piece and it leaves her feeling wrung out every time. Ending with the work after already playing several exhausting ones worries her.

For a moment, right in the beginning, she’s afraid they’ve lost their energy, their spark. But then Ben looks up and his eyes meet hers and _there_ it is. She keeps her eyes on him, plays to _Ben_ and not the audience. When they finish the work, they’re both breathing hard, like they’d run a marathon instead of just played a piece of music. Their eyes are still locked, and she notes that Ben’s are overly bright. She can feel tears pricking at the corner of her own eyes. _This_ is what it’s all about. This is what _they_ are about.

There’s only a brief pause before the audience roars to life and the spell is broken. Rey blinks and turns her eyes to the audience.

They’re on their feet.

There’s a call for an encore and Rey realizes they never contemplated such a thing.

She’s smiling so hard her face hurts, and she turns toward Ben when he stands and walks to her. The audience’s applause dies down for a moment. Even Rey isn’t sure what he’s doing. They’re supposed to bow, to curtsy, and then leave the stage. The end.

Instead, Ben comes over and wraps his hand around one of hers, drawing her in closer. Too close. _Is he going to kiss her?_

And he almost does, leaning toward her to press his lips lightly to her cheek. Only then do they bow to the audience. And she _can_ see Snoke then. His eyes are narrowed on them and she’s pretty sure there’s a tightness to his mouth that wasn’t there before. It sends a shiver down her spine.

He’s going to do something.

He’s going to do something _terrible_.

She just knows it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to everyone still hanging in there with this story. Terrible things are happening in the world today and I just want you all to know how much I love all of you. Be safe.


	17. The After Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update? A real update? First of all, I AM SO SORRY. I've been writing, but the fic I wrote for this year's RFFA ended up longer, more involved, and took way longer to write than I expected. That's done and out of the way, so I'm back writing this fic. I have a few more chapters after this done and more outlined. Hopefully not more than 26 or 27 all together but we'll see! 
> 
> I promise updates will come faster as this is the only fic I'm really focused on at the moment!

She’s in her dressing room, carefully putting her violin away, when there’s a knock. Her back stiffens. _It can’t be him…it can’t be Snoke_. She needs to redo her makeup, fix her hair, go to the after party.

Where she’ll watch Ben fawn all over some gorgeous model that Snoke had picked out for him. She’d seen her already. Not someone she recognizes, but she was sitting next to Snoke in the audience, a predatory look on her too-thin face, as she watched them interact on stage.

It had really only been a moment, that look the woman had given her, just as Ben had wrapped his arm around her waist and led her off stage. And Rey hates her. What a silly thing, that, but she feels strangely protective of Ben… _her_ Ben. And she hates that Kylo Ren is supposed to take his leave of her and spend the rest of the evening taking some woman with no understanding of music, of his _heart_ , into his bed.

She supposes it is what it is. Snoke is only the setup for these things. It’s Ben’s choice to leave with them.

The knock comes again, and she sighs, carefully closing the violin case before turning to the door. She tosses her head back, tilts her chin up, and throws the door open.

It’s not Snoke.

It’s Ben.

“Hey,” he says, and he looks back and forth quickly before leaning forward. “Can I…uh…”

“Come in?” she finishes for him.

“Yeah.”

She steps back and lets him enter the small dressing room, and suddenly the room seems so much smaller.

He moves around the room, touching things, straightening her violin case on the table, with Rey watching on. She smiles at his restlessness, but after another minute of it she finally sighs. “Did you need something?”

He turns on his heel to face her. “Sorry,” he mutters. “The after party,” he says, letting the words hang in the air. His fist clenches and unclenches.

“Yes, I know,” she says. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“On your…” he starts to say and then – “Oh. No. I don’t want to go with her.”

“Ben?”

“Kylo,” he says quickly. “You still have to call me Kylo. Out there at least.”

“And in here?”

He steps closer, and one hand raises, almost touches her. “Here I’m Ben. Just Ben.”

“I don’t think there’s anything _just Ben_ about you.”

He shrugs at that. “I suppose not.” He holds out an arm then. “Well, Miss Kenobi, I do believe we have an after party to attend.”

Her eyes widen at that. “An…I’m confused,” she admits. Snoke has his date lined up. She knows how it ends, how it _always_ ends.

His arms fall to his side. “I’m not going with…whatever her name was. I can’t remember. I sent her home.”

“Home?”

“Yes. She wasn’t happy. I’m sure I’ll hear about it tomorrow.” He lets out a small huff of laughter. “But I want to go with you.”

“That seems…”

“The right thing to do. You’re my new musical partner. We should be there together. Snoke doesn’t understand how these things are done.”

“I think Snoke invented how these things are done,” she points out.

“Well, it doesn’t much matter. We’re going. Are you ready?” He holds out his arm again and she just stares at it. This is stupid. This is _dangerous_. She knows Snoke will have his head. And probably hers. But then she looks up, meets his eyes. He looks so earnest, so honest. He _wants_ to go with her. And damn Snoke and everything he stands for. She’s going to go with him.

“Give me a moment to freshen up?”

He smiles then, and she can’t help but smile back. “Of course,” he says, and with a nod, she retreats to the small bathroom to make herself look a little more presentable for the party.

* * *

They walk into the room arm-in-arm, walking close enough that with every step, he feels her body brush against his. It thrills him, feeling her there. It’s the first party he can remember actually _wanting_ to be at, the first time he’s felt so relaxed.

 _No, that’s not quite true_. He remembers a balcony, and a young violinist waxing poetic about her time at school, catching his breath while basking in her loveliness. He hasn’t thought of that night since she first stepped into the auditorium for her audition and he recognized her, but he supposes even then he must have felt drawn to her. She’s the sun, the light to his darkness.

Here in the room, surrounded by so many people, she just _shines_. And he stands close enough to be burned by the rays of her light.

They traverse the room, Rey never straying far from his side. Sometimes he walks near her, sometimes he wraps his arm around her and draws her closer. There are people who want to meet her, who adore her already. It’s easy to adore her. East to love her, and that scares him right down to his toes.

He’s in trouble.

Serious trouble.

They’re chatting with one elderly couple, long-time supporters of the art programs Snoke Enterprises endorsed. “My dear, I never thought I’d see the day Kylo Ren would perform with someone else,” the woman says. She’s still holding onto Rey’s hand as she speaks, and Ben really would like to pull her back away from the woman. He can see that she’s feeling a little overwhelmed.

“Yes,” the woman’s husband says. “And such a beautiful and talented young thing.” There’s almost a leer behind the word and so Ben does the only thing he can think of. He puts his arm around Rey’s shoulders and draws her a little further away.

“I think she’s getting a little overwhelmed, Mr. Pryde.”

“Of course,” he says, piercing eyes watching them both.

“The balcony, dear?” Ben says as he leans down closer to Rey.

She just nods, but it’s enough for him to pull her away from Pryde and his insufferable wife. He always has to talk to them, always has to deal with her hands pawing at him and Pryde’s arrogance. It’s enough to put _anyone_ off, but he knows this is all out of the realm of Rey’s experiences and so he steers her away.

“Thank you,” she whispers as they make their way to the balcony.

“I know those two all too well,” he comments. He glances back as they slip out the door. Snoke is watching them and that sends a shiver down his spine.

Rey pauses and looks back at him. “Are you okay?”

He shakes the feeling off. “Yeah…let’s...” He clears his throat. “Let’s just get a little fresh air before we return to the fray?” He tries to smile, but it’s like his lips are somehow frozen.

But she doesn’t notice, there in the darkness that their eyes have yet to adjust to. And he’s thankful for that much at least. “Yes,” she finally says, and he leads her out to the railing to look over the city below.

She likes him close, likes him standing with his arm wrapped around her. She had been sure it was all for show, but out there alone on the balcony, he pulls her in tight to his side.

“Ben?” she asks.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment and she almost calls him by his stage name before he does finally respond. “Yes?”

“What are we doing?”

“It’s the after party…”

“ _Ben_.” She pulls herself away from him and turns to face him. “You know what I mean. Why aren’t you out there seducing that model? That’s what you do, isn’t it? So why not this time? Why go with _me_?”

She can’t quite make out his eyes in the dark, but she sees him go somewhat rigid. “I wanted to go with you,” he says in response, every word a little clipped.

“But why?”

“Why not? You’re my new musical partner. You’re talented and beautiful. Why wouldn’t I want to go with you instead of some vapid woman Snoke insists I take?”

“You think I’m beautiful?” she asks, the words slipping out before she can stop them. She’s always been the tomboy, the girl who climbed higher on the monkey bars than others at the playground, the one who likes to run, get muddy, play soccer and basketball when she wasn’t spending most of her time perfecting her instrument.

She’s not beautiful.

Cute, maybe…if she’s really being generous. And she usually isn’t.

He reaches out for her, pulls his hand back, but then steps forward a moment later and seems to have made up his mind. His hand comes up and cups her cheek. “You really have no idea,” he murmurs. “I don’t know how you don’t. You dazzled the entire audience.”

“I think that was you,” she says, the words a mere whisper.

“No. Definitely not. There was this electricity in the air, and it was all _you_. People couldn’t stop watching you. You were magnificent.” His thumb moves, brushes across her chin and then across her bottom lip. She wants to nip at it, draw it into her mouth like she did the last time, but she stops herself. The last time scared him off, the last time made him draw back and pull into himself.

 _No_. She won’t make that mistake again.

And so she says nothing as he leans a little closer to her. She can _almost_ make out his eyes in the dark, can see them meet hers, flit down to her lips, and back up again.

She nods. Just once. Slowly.

He dips his head. His lips are a hair’s breadth from hers.

“Well, isn’t this sweet?” comes the harsh voice from somewhere near the balcony entrance.

Rey jumps back, and Ben is left standing, slightly bent over, as he seems to come back to himself slowly.

 _Snoke_.

“Imagine my surprise when I find out that the very lovely woman who was to accompany Kylo to this party was sent packing without so much as a by your leave”

“Snoke…” Ben starts to say, but Snoke just holds up one hand.

“And now I find you out here, about to do _what_ with your violinist?”

“I’m not _his_ violinist,” Rey shoots back with.

“Yes, well, you’re hardly a violinist at all, are you my dear?” Snoke says, every word sending a frisson of fear and loathing up her spine. He takes a step toward her and she’s surprised to see Ben position himself half in between them. His body doesn’t block her view of Snoke’s movement, but it would be easy enough to slip behind him, hide.

 _Run_.

She’s not the type to run and so she puts a hand on Ben, just a brief touch. He turns to look at her for a moment and she nods, stepping to the side and facing Snoke full on.

“I suppose,” Snoke goes on with, “that now is as good as any time to discuss your performance.” He presses his hands together and all Rey can think of is some evil villain from a superhero movie. He’s enjoying this far too much.

“It went very well,” Rey says.

“Did it?” Snoke asks.

“Yes,” Rey responds with, and crosses her arms over her chest. “Did you hear the audience?”

Snoke scoffs. “The vast majority of the audience are a bunch of know nothings. They’d happily drink a three-dollar wine and proclaim it high class. You can’t listen to _them_.”

“We were _not_ three-dollar wine,” Rey starts to say when Snoke cuts her off.

“No? You were awfully close. Oh, sure your performance was adequate, perhaps even slightly more than adequate.” He holds up one bony hand. “But there’s more to a performance than just the music. There’s fire and passion and _glamor_.”

“Glamor?” Ben asks.

“Kylo Ren,” Snoke says. “He’s not just some sniveling brat who minces out onto stage and plays his music with his head buried in the piano. No!” His hand forms into a fist and he thrusts it toward them. “He’s alluring. Everyone wants to know him.” He whirls on Ben then and there’s this strange light in his eyes. “Everyone wants to _be_ him.”

And she wonders…does Snoke?

The disdain is back as his eyes fall on Rey again. “You,” he says, pointing one finger at her. “You are not glamorous enough. You think we didn’t all see you tromp out onto the stage wearing those flat clunkers as shoes. Your posture is terrible. There’s nothing elegant about you.”

Rey thinks about interrupting him, but she can’t quite seem to find the words. She can feel the heat on her cheeks, can feel her stomach starting to churn. She wants to find the nearest trashcan and hurl the little appetizers she’d eaten right into it. But instead she stiffens her spine and faces him.

He narrows his eyes. “You think you’re better than that?” He smiles then and it sends a shiver up her spine. Ben moves a little closer to her when she does, and she glances up at him. He’s not watching her. He’s watching Snoke, his eyes wide. She has no sense of what he’s thinking at that moment, but she’s pretty sure his face is paler than usual. “You do,” Snoke says. “Of course you do. And look at you, at the after party with the greatest pianist to grace the stage in more than a decade. You must be so proud of yourself.”

He pauses then.

“I…” she starts to say, but he holds a hand up.

“I need nothing more from you.” He turns from her as if she’s nothing, as if she’s still just that kid who was found digging through a dumpster in the hopes of finding a meal, left on the street by parents who no longer cared. “You,” he says and points a hand toward Ben.

Ben says nothing. Rey glances up at him, and it looks like he wants to say something. But then he presses his lips together and gives Snoke a small nod.

“The great Kylo Ren,” Snoke continues on with. “What do you think they think of you now? Showing up to this party with _her_ on your arm. You have an image, boy. And _she_ is not it. Let her flounder on her own. She’s nothing but a little bit of decoration on the stage, and not a very pretty one at that.”

She gasps at his words. She’s never thought much about her looks. It’s just not been something that matters to her, but here she feels the hair stand up on the back of her neck and she wants to fight back. She wants to scream at him and push him and _my God,_ but there is a part of her that wants to draw her fist back and punch him in his hideously twisted face.

“I think Rey looks fine on stage with me,” Ben says, every word a little stiff, like they’ve been dragged out of him without his ever meaning to utter them.

“Do you now?” He scoffs. “Of course you do. You’ve been thinking with what’s between your legs ever since you met her.” Here his voice turns almost conversational, as if he’s commenting on the weather and not _her_. “What a strange thing, really. I send you to these parties with the most beautiful of women, women the world would give _anything_ to take to their bed. And yet time after time they come to me with complaints about how you’ve sent them home wanting. For a little while I thought you might actually be gay, but then I saw no interest in men either. And so I assumed that perhaps things just…” He waves a hand at Ben and steps a little closer. “…didn’t work. Perhaps they don’t. I’d have to ask _her_.” The last is said with a vicious finger pointing at Rey.

She draws her hand back.

She’s going to strike him. She can’t even stop herself as she starts to swing her hand toward his face.

But a hand grasps her wrist, wraps around it and stops her from being able to make that final blow. “Rey,” she hears Ben’s soft voice in her ear. “It’s not worth it.”

She takes a deep breath.

Then another.

“Yes,” Snoke says. “Go ahead and strike me. I’d love nothing more than to have you arrested for assault.”

Another deep breath.

“No,” she finally manages to say. “He’s right. It’s not worth it.” She glances over at Ben before looking back at Snoke. “ _You_ are not worth it.”

“Hmm…” He doesn’t even look at her as he addresses Ben. “You can keep your little plaything for the stage. But at the next party, you will _not_ be seen with her. You will take who I tell you to, and this _child_ can go on her own. Or bring some equally uncouth young man. Maybe one of those boys she was seen with at the last one.”

“How _dare_ you?” Rey mutters.

Ben says nothing, and so she turns to look at him. He’s not looking at Snoke. He’s not looking at her. He’s staring at his feet, and he looks so…cowed. “Ben?”

His eyes meet hers for a moment, slide away.

“Fuck,” she mutters. And then she turns and storms off.

She hears Ben call her name.

She hears Snoke say something to Ben.

No one comes after her, though a few people try to stop her on the way through. She doesn’t want to talk to them, and she knows they’ll be talking about how _rude_ she was, how Kylo Ren’s new partner is so standoffish, but she can feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

She will not cry.

She will not let him get the better of her.

 _Fuck_.

* * *

“The worst night of your life?” Finn is asking. He and Rose look so concerned, and she has no idea what to tell them. They’d been there at the concert, had seen her triumph. But then they’d gone home, and she’d gone to the after party.

As soon as she left the party, she’d called them and then she couldn’t stop the tears. Now she sits at their favorite coffee shop and she looks around at her friends. Finn, Rose, and Poe as well. They’d all shown up even though it was the bloody middle of the night.

She loves them.

She really does.

“Yes,” she finally says, picking up her tea and taking a sip. It’s hot. Too hot. But it somehow feels good, _real_ when nothing else does. She shivers. “Snoke…you don’t know what…”

“What about Kylo?” Finn asks.

“What about him?” Rey asks.

“What did he do?”

 _Nothing_ comes to mind. But it was more than that, she realizes. It was like he was frozen in place, like he couldn’t manage to move beyond some sort of fear. She can’t pretend to know exactly what was going through his mind, but she can understand. There’s something _off_ about Snoke and it’s not just in the way he wields power.

“Fear,” she mutters. She watches as the other three lean forward. “He said nothing. He was…he’s afraid of Snoke.”

“You’re not,” Rose points out. Rey’s head shoots up. “Don’t tell me you are. We know how you stood up to him. We saw the look you gave him when you walked on stage.”

“I’m not scared of him. But he…there’s something wrong there. I just know it.”

Finn leans forward. “You think he did Kylo dirty. Don’t you?”

“I do. I don’t think he just fell down the stairs. I think Snoke was involved somehow.”

“You need to quit,” Rose says, and she’s surprised by the dark look on her face. “Even an orchestra job would be better than this.”

“And leave B…Kylo…alone? I can’t do that.”

“ _Rey_ ,” Finn says. “You don’t need to protect him. You have no investment there.”

She sighs. That’s not true and she knows that. There’s…something there. Something that draws her to him. She remembers their kiss. She can still see the look of horror in his eyes as he listened to Snoke berate her, can hear him calling after her before she disappeared into the crowd at the after party.

“I do,” she finally says. “There’s…more there.” She glances over at Rose and sees her nod. “Rose knows.”

“Rose?” Finn asks.

“This is dangerous,” she whispers. “Rey, you _both_ need to get out.”

“I know.” She nods. “I know. And…I don’t know how to.”

But she will. She’ll walk away from Snoke, and she’ll take Ben with her when she does. She _has_ to. Because it’s the only thing she _can_ do.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my classical music AU! Currently clocking in at over 30k, there's still a lot to be written. But I wanted to get this out there. I hope you enjoy this new world!


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